


Take All the Time Lost (the Snow Globe fic)

by writhedbeneath



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: kradamadness, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writhedbeneath/pseuds/writhedbeneath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kris fell in love with Adam and was subsequently cursed to be stuck in a snow globe forever. This snow globe is passed on from generation to generation and until Adam (who's being reincarnated lifetime after lifetime until he's reunited with his soulmate) finds him, the curse won't be lifted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take All the Time Lost (the Snow Globe fic)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt by [inbetweencabs](inbetweencabs.dreamwidth.org/). Beta by [ idahophoenix](http://idahophoenix.dreamwidth.org/)

The glass is thick, curves blown by hand with expert care. The base is a coppery gold, not painted, but authentic, unrusted despite the age. It’s heavier than it first appears, not like the cheap, plastic things of today. Solid and firm. A thin gold chain, attached at the side, clasps a long gold turnkey.

Inside it’s filled with pure, clear water, and a spattering of white glittery bits that float freely if it's jostled. Tiny trees and shrubbery surround a small circle of ice, a bit like a pond. In the center is a man, navy pea coat fitted to his small body, a white winter scarf wrapped around his neck. He is alone on the ice, a pair of old fashioned skates on his feet, a smile painted on his face. When one holds it upside down and shakes it, the tiny bits of snow overtake the man, the trees, the ice, a winter wonderland that fades moments later, as the snow falls to the bottom and pools along the sides of the pond. The turnkey fits easily into thin slots underneath, and when wound properly, the man skates in a small circle, gliding easily over the ice, over and over again while a soft melody plays. Round and round he goes, that joyous smile never changing.

But if one looks through the haze of the water and falling snow, looks beyond the painted on smile, one might catch a glimpse of the pained expression trapped forever in his eyes.

****************************

When he opens his eyes, Kris is sitting on a bench in a rail station. Malcolm is next to him, one foot folded over his knee, calmly reading a newspaper.

It’s always like this. No gasp for breath, no startled realization. It’s like the way a dream starts, in the middle, and you never question how or why you got there. Except it’s nothing like a dream. It’s waking up.

“Good to see you again, Kristopher.” Malcolm says fondly, handing him the front page.

It takes Kris a moment to get acclimated, looking around the large room. He takes in the style of clothing, the tv screens announcing departures and arrivals, people talking and playing with their phones.

He blinks down at the paper in his hands, taking in the headlines.

“2010,” Kris whispers, breathless. “But…how? Last time it was only 1952.”

“Yes,” Malcolm nods in agreement. “That one didn’t last long did it.”

Kris shakes his head sadly. “He didn’t even make it to 30?”

“Motorcycle accident,” Malcolm says. “Messy indeed. Well, no use wasting time crying over past lives.”

“I guess not,” Kris replies, still lost in thought.

“So, shall we then?” Malcolm asks, waiting for Kris to look up.

“Yes, please do go on.”

“Let’s start with the most important,” Malcolm begins, pulling out a small electronic device. “This is an Iphone. Everything you’ll need is on here.”

He spends the next ten minutes showing a bewildered Kris how to use the touchscreen, the keypad, and explaining what text messaging is. He gives a lengthy, but altogether futile, explanation of the internet.

“So it stores people’s thoughts and words? But where are they kept? It must take up a whole city! Imagine that.”

“You don’t really need to understand it,” Malcolm says, frustrated. “Just so long as you know how to use it if need be. There are a few other things you need to know.”

Malcolm quickly catches him up on the other inventions of the last half century, the changes in government, the current state of the world.

“Wow,” Kris stares at him wide eyed. “So many advances, in such a short time.”

“World keeps on turning, and all that,” Malcolm replies. “Now, I do have to get on to another appointment, and you have a lot to do yourself, so if you’re good here--”

“But where is here?” Kris cuts him off. “I don’t recognize the name of this town, New Paltz.”

“Upstate New York,” Malcolm rises from his seat, “About an hour south of Albany. Now, you remember what happened last time, yes? Do try to find a place to stay this time.” Malcolm hands him the classifieds section. “You’ll have all the money you need, cash only, as usual. Any other questions?”

“I have a good feeling about this,” Kris says with a hopeful grin. “Really, I think this time it’s going to work.”

Malcolm sighs, looking down at him sadly. “You say that every time, Kris.”

“But look at this world! They have planes, and some sort of database with everyone’s thoughts..and tv’s you can carry in your pocket! I’m bound to find him quicker than I ever could have before.”

“Maybe so,” Malcolm says with a knowing smile. “But you know there’s more to it than that.”

“I know,” Kris says, his smile faltering a little. “But it’s going to be different this time. It’s going to _work_ this time. You’ll see.”

“All right kid,” Malcolm nods, “Remember the rules. And, unless you need me, I’ll see you again at the next full moon. That is, unless you do succeed.”

“It’s going to _work_ this time,” Kris calls out to his retreating figure.

“It is,” he whispers firmly to himself.

He looks down at the paper in his hands, the classifieds section. One listing stands out—there’s a red pen mark near it, as though someone were about to circle it but changed their mind at the last moment. It’s an ad seeking a roommate for a house on Chestnut Street.

Kris looks up, spots Malcolm’s retreating figure for a moment before he disappears. He looks back down at the paper in his hands, and reaches for his phone to dial the number listed.

“It’s going to be different this time,” he says with a grin.

 

****************************

Kris takes a cab to the house, because that’s what the nice lady at the rail station said to do when he asked for walking directions. It’s not as though he hadn’t ridden in cars before. He even knew how to drive. The last time he was here, he’d bought a beat up Ford and driven it from Texas straight up to Wisconsin. He would have kept going north, if time hadn’t run out. All that time, and he hadn’t even found Adam. So many years in between…so many years since he’d even had a glimpse of his face.

Standing on the front steps, he tries to peer in through the tiny glass slats on the front door. He gathers his courage and rings the doorbell with shaky hands.

A moment later a shock of bright red hair greets him from the half-opened doorway. The girl, who can’t be older than 20, looks at him questioningly.

“Yes?” she asks. Her face is open, friendly.

“I…” He holds out the newspaper clipping still clutched in his hand. “I’m here about the room for rent?”

“Oh, fantastic!” she exclaims, ushering Kris inside. “Come on in, I can show you around.”

It’s a long narrow room, cluttered with furniture and instruments everywhere. Instead of paintings on the wall, there’s a large cloth tye-dye peace sign hanging above a couch that has seen better days.

“Let’s go into the kitchen,” the girl says. “And we can sit down and chat a little. Sorry I was in the middle of breakfast and if I don’t eat before rehearsal I don’t eat at all, you know?”

The kitchen is spacious and open, with a round table in the corner by the windows facing the snow covered deck and backyard. Kris walks over and peers outside.

“I know, I can’t remember the last time we got this much snow,” Allison says, pouring herself a bowl of cereal. “It’s nice at first, but then it gets slushy and gray and depressing.”

Kris nods in agreement, sitting down when she gestures at a chair.

“I’m Allison by the way,” she says, sitting down next to him and pouring a liberal amount of milk into the bowl.

“Kris,” he responds. “I just moved here, from out of town. I don’t have a lot of stuff, and the listing said everything would be furnished so that sounded perfect. Is the room still available then?”

“Oh yeah,” she answers through a mouthful. “We almost had someone ready to take it, but Tre, he’s one of the guys who lives here, thought he was ‘sketchy.’ Tre’s picky like that. You’ll see. I mean, if you decide to live here.”

“Are you all musicians?” Kris asks, remembering the guitars and sheet music scattered in the living room.

“Oh no. Tre’s a med student, he’s actually doing his residency at the hospital, so he’s almost never here, and when he is he’s just sleeping. That’s kind of all you need to know about him. Oh, well that and don’t eat his food. Seriously, he’s got it labeled.”

“But I am,” she continues. “a musician. Or at least I’m trying to be. I was studying at the college here, business,” she pulls a face “with a music theory minor. But I’m basically dropped out now? Except my parents don’t know yet. And they’re paying my rent, so at least until the end of the semester I’m here. After that I’m thinking I might move down to New York, try my luck there.”

Kris nods, listening with rapt attention. She’s so young and vibrant. His time is always so short, he usually spends it so _focused_ that he’s forgotten what it’s like to just have a conversation with someone. A part of his brain is nagging at him to get a move on, but Malcolm led him here for a reason. Unless it wasn’t Malcolm at all, but he pushes that thought out of his mind quickly. The thought of blindly searching the earth for Adam while the brief time he has ticks away is too much for him to bear.

“I know it’s a long shot,” she continues. “One in a million probably. But, it’s my dream, you know. And hell, you only live once right?”

Kris looks down to hide his rueful smile.

“So, that’s me anyway. And our other roommate is--”

She’s interrupted by a loud crashing sound and someone yelping in pain followed by a series of expletives.

“Well, that’s our other roommate,” she says with a grin. Kris rises when he hears footsteps coming towards them. “Adam get your ass in here.”

“Adam?” he half whispers, fingers gripping the edge of the table.

His Adam. Impossibly tall and lean, long stretch of legs encased in skin tight denim. The thick black hair he used to run his fingers through, the shock of gray-blue sparkling eyes.

His Adam, who he hasn’t seen in over a hundred years. Standing in front of him, rubbing his elbow like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He doesn't seem to notice Kris.

“Don’t be mad,” Adam says pleadingly. “I think I broke your amp. It wasn’t my fault! Well maybe it was a little bit, but I can totally get it fixed. For free! Okay?”

Little spots are dancing in front of Kris’s eyes, and he’s feeling lightheaded and weak. His knees are starting to shake, noticeably.

“As long as it’s done by Friday,” Allison says accusatorily. “Friday of this week, Adam. Not any random Friday in the next decade.”

“You act like I’m unreliable,” he says hurt. “And I promise, it will—hey, man, are you okay?”

He turns his attention towards Kris, who looks pale and as if he might pass out at any moment.

“This is Kris,” Allison says, looking at Kris concerned. “He’s here to look at the room. Kris, is something wrong?”

Kris shakes his head, but can’t seem to find his voice. He sits down, hard, the chair screeching under his weight.

“I just,” he chokes out a moment later. “Haven’t eaten yet today. My blood sugar must be low. Do you have anything I can drink?”

Adam rushes to the refrigerator and pours him a glass of juice.

“Are you diabetic or something? I had a cousin who was and she’d have to be really careful about it—“

“No,” Kris whispers, taking the glass with a grateful smile. His eyes haven’t moved from Adam since he walked into the room. “Just forgot to eat dinner last night and missed breakfast this morning.”

“I wish I could just forget to eat,” Adam says, making a face.

Kris looks up at him questioningly, confused and overwhelmed. Adam. His Adam. He found him already. Standing in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch.

“I’m Adam, by the way,” he says, extending his hand towards Kris. Kris reaches out, his own hand still a little shaky. Adam’s is warm and soft against his, solid and firm.

“You’re so cold,” Adam says, kneeling down to Kris’s seated level, and adding his free hand on top of Kris’s, so Kris’s hand is sandwiched in between the warmth of fingers and palms. “It must be freezing out.”

Kris nods, slowly, eyes still on him.

“Shit, I guess I should put on a sweater then,” Adam smiles, pulling his hands away with a friendly pat on Kris’s knee and rising to his full height.

“And a coat,” Allison adds.

“Okay Mom,” Adam grins at her. “I gotta get to work. But I’ll be back for dinner, please tell me you’re cooking?”

Allison nods “Unless practice runs long.”

“Awesome,” Adam responds, kissing her on the cheek. “And Kris, it was great to meet you. Hope you move in! And eat something, man! Like, a banana or something, okay?”

But Adam is gone, striding through the living room and out the front door, before Kris can respond.

“So, that’s Adam. He’s amazing. Kind of messy, but a seriously awesome roommate. And we don’t have a lease here, I know, not the best set up but at least it’s month to month so anyone can move out any time they want. Which kinda sucks when someone leaves and you have to find a new roommate, but it’s a great house and –“

“I’ll take it,” Kris says quickly.

“Don’t you even want to see your room?” Allison asks, eyes narrowed.

Kris shakes his head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. And I really like…the house,” he finishes lamely.

“It’s not a very big room, it’s really just got a bed and a dresser and—“

“Everything I’ve got fits in this backpack, I don’t really take up a lot of room.”

She looks at him uncertainly

“I can pay cash,” Kris adds. “For this month and the next. Upfront.”

“Well then,” Allison grins. “Let me help you to your new room. After you eat this banana," she adds. "First sensible thing Adam's said in a long time."

Kris’s room is on the top floor, a converted attic. He doesn’t mind the slanted ceilings, he’s short enough to stand up straight even at their lowest point. It feels warm and cozy.

Allison leaves after taking his rent money, providing him with a key and a promise to have dinner later and learn everything there is to know about his life, leaving Kris with the daunting task of creating a life to tell her about.

He sits on the edge of his bed, staring into space, amazed. He pulls out the newspaper Malcolm had left behind, scanning the long pages. December 21, 2010. Without looking, he knows today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. It's always the winter solstice; that never changes.

When he can’t find what he’s looking for in the paper, he takes out the Iphone Malcom had shown him how to use, and runs a quick search.

His amazement at the marvels of modern technology last only as long as it takes the page to load. The next full moon is January 19, 2011. Almost four weeks away.

He’s never had this long before. Finding Adam, when he could find him, usually took up most of the time he was given. Four weeks. Four full weeks.

“I found him,” he calls out into the empty space.

The sunlight drifting into the room from the large circular windows makes tiny bits of particles dance before his eyes. It reminds him of the snow, of his glass prison. But he’s free now, free to move and laugh and cry and scream. And Adam is here. He’s found him.

Malcolm appears a moment later, as Kris knew he would.

“So you did,” he replies with a smile. “Is that why you called me away? I was in the middle of an important—“

“You led me here,” Kris’ voice is more accusatory than he intends.

“Well,” Malcolm says softly. “I am your guide.”

“But you’ve never done that before,” Kris says in a rush, as he rises to move towards Malcolm. “You let me waste so much time, sometimes _all my time_ looking for him. Does this mean, are the other rules now—“

“No,” Malcolm says quickly, voice as calm as ever. “You said it yourself, you would have found him eventually. Modern technology, etc., etc.”

“But—“

“The other rules still stand, Kristopher,” Malcolm says softly. “You have 28 days, same as you did every other lifetime.”

“I _never_ had this much time. I never had a chance to actually make this work before.”

“Then this is your chance,” Malcolm moves closer to him, looks down into his eyes intently. “Make it count. But remember, the rules.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kris says firmly, shaking his head and putting some distance between them and moving towards the bed. “I told you this time was different.”

“So you did,” Malcolm responds, unconvinced.

“I’m going to--” Kris begins, sitting down, but when he looks up, Malcolm is already gone.

He sits for a moment, trying to focus his thoughts, shaking and overwhelmed.

 _Four weeks,_ he thinks. _Four weeks to make Adam fall in love with me, and the spell will be broken._

 _Four weeks,_ he thinks.

It takes a moment to sink in. Then the panic begins.

****************************

Restraint is the watchword.

Kris had spent years, decades even, imagining what it would be like to be this close to Adam. To have him nearby all the time, to be able to touch and talk, to be able to listen to his sweet laughter, just to hear him breathe.

As it turns out, it’s a little bit like torture. And considering he’s spent the past two centuries trapped in a world of water and snow and glass, unable to move or speak, to even blink, Kris knows something about torture.

He quickly learns to adapt to the modern world of electric ovens and refrigerators (genius!) and televisions in every room. He even learns how to use Allison’s computer, though he’s avoided that since the time he accidentally spent three hours browsing through Wikipedia. Everything you could ever want to know, all in one place, _amazing._

But living with Adam…that would take some getting used to.

Not that he doesn’t love it. Knowing Adam’s sleeping just one flight down, right beneath his feet. Kris lies awake some nights, trying to hear Adam’s laughter or the muffled sounds of him singing to himself as he gets ready for bed, sometimes laying on the floor, pressing his ears on the floorboards, straining to hear the rise and fall of Adam’s breath as he sleeps.

It takes all his effort not to throw himself on Adam, kiss him, embrace him and offer words of love and devotion.

But he knows he can’t. Even if Adam returned the affection, it would be meaningless, fleeting. He learned that the hard way, two lifetimes ago.

It had taken almost the entire four weeks, five different horses, trudging through mud and a blizzard, and a near case of hypothermia for Kris to find him, sitting snugly in front of a fire, a blanket strewn casually over his legs, reading a book. Half-mad from the cold and the journey, Kris had thrown caution to the wind, knowing his time was coming to a close. It never occurred to him that Adam would reject him, wouldn’t return his affection, and his faith was rewarded, but only for one night. It was just sex to Adam. Affectionate, passionate, and beautiful, but whatever love lay beneath, it wasn’t within Kris’s reach. It was too quickly over, and Kris was left encased in his cold winter’s prison once more.

Though the night stayed with him, the ghost of those touches and kisses keeping him from insanity through the lonely decades to come, he couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.

So, restraint was his daily mantra, even though his skin ached with the control it took to keep from touching, and his throat burned with the words of love that were desperately trying to spill from his lips, pushed down, down.

Despite his attempts at self-control, he somehow managed to kiss Adam (totally an accident) within a week of arriving

It was nearly Christmas. Kris always forgets, having spent his past three Christmas’s alone, the holiday uncelebrated as he searched for Adam, often wandering aimlessly through the nights.

Allison and Adam were both staying in town for it, so they decided to make a feast and invite friends over. Kris and Adam offered to help as much as possible, but Allison had a bit of a tyrannical hold over the kitchen.

“We need cranberries,” Kris announces. “For the cranberry sauce? It’s not Christmas without it.”

Allison shoots him a haggard look, frantically stirring something. Kris steps back, afraid she might actually hit him. She’s a small girl, but she’s fiery and Kris really doesn’t want to know how hard she can punch.

“Um, I can go get it myself,” he stammers. “I’m just not actually sure where yet—“

“I’ll come with,” Adam volunteers, eyeing Allison nervously.

Kris had already explored the town, while Allison was at band practice or class, and Adam was working one of his many part-time jobs. He’d passed Miss Peggy’s enough times to know where to find it, but he was hoping for some time alone with Adam. He’d gotten to know him a little, easy conversation at dinner or passing each other in the hall, and one particularly memorable incident where Kris accidentally walked in on Adam in the shower (okay, not really much of an accident at all), but they hadn’t had that moment yet. Kris needs it to happen soon, as he’s quickly finding out making someone fall in love with you, when they barely know who you are, isn’t as easy as he’d imagined. Even if you are soul mates cast apart by evil forces.

“It’s her first Christmas away from home,” Adam explains as they step into the cool afternoon air. “I think she just wants it to be perfect. You know, so she can prove she’s okay on her own? I was like that at first too.”

Kris nods, walking faster to keep up with Adam’s long stride.

“My mom’s always the same way around the holidays,” Adam says, a little wistfully.

“Why didn’t you go home for Christmas?” Kris asks

Adam shrugs. “Too expensive. They offered to pay for the flight, but I know it’s too much. My Mom’s Jewish, so we don’t even really celebrate. I mean we still get together, but it’s not the biggest deal. Besides, now that I’ve had it, it doesn’t seem right, Christmas without snow. It’s like, 70 degrees in San Diego right now.”

“Oh,” Kris says in surprise. “You enjoy the cold? I didn’t think you would.”

“It’s crazy,” Adam says, shaking his head. “Californians usually hate it, I know. Notorious for it, right? Winter there means you throw on a sweatshirt. But the older I got, the more I just…wanted it. I don’t know how to explain it, I just craved it. And everyone thought I was crazy, but I just kept moving further north. For a while I was thinking about moving to Colorado, living near the slopes. Or even Alaska. The summers are beautiful here, but even then…it makes me miss the cold.”

Kris waits for him to continue, afraid to breathe. It all makes so sense much to him, if only he could explain it to Adam…

“Okay, that does sound crazy.” Adam laughs. “And enough about me. What about you?”

“Me?” Kris asks, surprised.

“Yeah, how you diggin our winter wonderland?”

“Oh, well, where I’m from, it’s cold all the time,” Kris answers, unable to conceal the sadness in his voice. “I guess I’m used to it.”

“I thought you were from Arkansas?”

Kris tries to think fast. “Yeah, that’s where I grew up. But, I just meant, where I was coming from, right before I came…here,” he finishes weakly.

Adam’s slows his speed considerably, Kris notices, grateful until he realizes it’s so Adam can turn to look at him. To really look at him.

“There’s so much I want to learn about you, Kristopher Allen,” he says softly, and Kris’s heart begins to race.

He shakes his head. “I’m really not very interesting.”

Adam just hmmms his disagreement.

“Hey, what’s that store? I’ve passed it a few times and I’ve always wondered,” Kris says, pointing to a nondescript storefront, trying to change the conversation.

Adam looks at him, pointedly, before glancing at where Kris motioned towards. “Oh that? Yet another art supply store. I think they have jewelry supplies too? You know the hippies here love to make their own jewelry.”

Kris laughs. “I love this town.”

“I’m glad,” Adam smiles. “I swear, this place. Who would have known a small town full of crunchy liberal hippies would be so perfect. But it really is. And the college kids can get annoying, yeah, but they’re the perfect vehicle for a new musician. You know? They go back to campus, tell all their friends, and word spreads and suddenly you’ve got thousands of hits on youtube.”

Kris nods, making a mental note to find out what youtube is, and why people are hitting Adam on it, and whether or not maybe he’d be interesting in hitting Adam on it too.

Main Street is deserted, but thankfully the little organic market just a few blocks from their house is open till 5. Adam opens the door for Kris, like a perfect gentleman, and Kris gets a shock when their fingers brush.

“Peggy, doll, I hope they’re paying you overtime for working on the holidays,” Adam greets the woman behind the cash register.

“Just seeing your smiling face is payment enough, especially since I own the place,” she responds with a teasing smile. “Now who is this handsome fella?”

Adam stands behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “This is Kris, our new roommate.” She smiles warmly at Kris. “He moved in last week, and if he doesn’t have cranberry sauce with his turkey, his whole Christmas will be ruined. I told him, if anyone can save the day, it’s gonna be Miss Peggy. And she’ll probably give you a world famous, organic, range free recipe too.”

“Enough out of you,” Peggy says, poking Adam with her elbow then turning to Kris, serious. “You’re making this yourself right? None of that canned junk.”

Kris tries not to laugh when Adam rolls his eyes over her head.

“Don’t think I didn’t see that mister,” she says, jotting down some ingredients on a piece of paper she hands to Kris. “The cranberries are in Aisle 4, and everything else you’ll need is in Aisle 2.”

Ten minutes later, after they check out (Kris makes a mental note to carry less cash on him when Peggy and Adam share a look over the large wad he pulls out), Peggy leaves him with explicit instructions on how to make the sauce, written on his receipt, and kisses him and Adam roughly on the cheek. “You boys have a Merry Christmas, and give Allison a big hug for me.”

“I told you,” Adam says, laughing as they walk side by side in the middle of the deserted street, easier to avoid the snow piled high on the sidewalks. “This town.”

“I still love it,” Kris looks up at him smiling. “It feels like home.”

“This what home was like for you?” Adam asks.

Kris shrugs, but doesn’t say more. Adam seems to take the hint.

They walk in silence for a few minutes. The walk to their house is peaceful and serene, full of trees and little cottage houses that have been turned into restaurants and clothing stores. It’s quaint and picturesque and Kris can see why Adam, inching his way further north for years, had finally settled here.

Adam is so easy to be with, Kris sometimes finds himself forgetting that every day, every hour, means his time is running out. It’s too easy to just be when he should be doing, somehow, making things happen. In his past lifetimes he had spent so much time looking for Adam, he hadn’t ever really thought about, much less planned, what he’d do when he found him.

“I wish it was snowing,” Adam says wistfully, as they round the corner that leads them off Main Street. “I know it gets messy and believe me I hate shoveling, but it’s so pretty, especially on Christmas.”

“Maybe it’ll start soon,” Kris says, his eyes sparkling. It’s cold enough; a white fog forming before him every time he speaks.

Adam laughs a moment later as he feels the first drop land on his nose.

“What is this?” he grins, turning to Kris. “How’d you pull this off, Arkansas?”

“I plead the Fifth,” Kris laughs, hoping that’s still an expression people use.

It’s starting to really come down, enough to stick just a little, but there’s already so much snow on the ground that it’ll barely make a difference.

Adam stops completely and does a little dance in a circle, looking up at the sky. He sticks his tongue out, letting the drops fall down into his mouth.

Kris allows himself a moment of just staring, at Adam, so vibrant and alive, his black hair and pale skin offset by the white snow falling all around him and the lush green of the fir trees behind. It’s a beautiful moment, and Kris takes it in, locks it away someplace deep inside, for someday when he might need to call on it again and again.

He looks down at Kris a moment later. “You!” he laughs again, stepping closer to Kris, barely a breath away. “You did this! You’re like…magic, like a little tiny Christmas elf or—“

Kris’s eyes widen in surprise at the closeness, looking down at Adam’s hand holding tightly to the lapel of his jacket.

“Shit,” Adam says quickly. “I didn’t mean that like…offensively. I stay stupid shit sometimes, I was just joking. You’re not even that short, definitely not like…an elf, don’t be upset.”

He’s rambling but Kris barely hears a word he says, blood rushing to his head from the closeness of Adam, His Adam, making everything sound like white noise. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching up to kiss Adam, practically knocking him off his feet and sending them both tumbling into a large bank of snow.

“So,” Adam says a moment later, eyes wide, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I guess you’re not mad?”

Kris pulls back, scrambling to his knees so Adam has room to get up, grabbing the bag of ingredients he’d carelessly thrown aside. Stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down. “That was really…I’m sorry.”

But Adam just stands up and smiles, reaching out his hand to pull Kris up.

“I didn’t mind,” he says, his fingers under Kris’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “Except for the tackling in the snow part. Though, my brother made me play tackle football once, and this was infinitely better. If that’s how you play it in Arkansas, I might have to visit someday.”

Kris smiles a little, and then relaxes his tense shoulders when Adam wraps an arm around them, pulling him into a friendly half hug as they walk the rest of the way home.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss Kris softly on his temple. “Thanks for the snow.”

 

****************************

“It’s like you’ve learned nothing at all,” Malcolm says with a sigh.

Kris isn’t surprised. He had a feeling Malcolm would be waiting for him, ready to pounce the moment he was alone.

“I didn’t do anything,” he responds quickly, defensively. “It’s not like last time. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t screw this up like that.”

Malcolm nods once, pointedly. “He was joking, you know. About the snow being magic? If only he knew. The things you were capable of. Isn’t that what you were thinking Kris? That it would be so much easier if you could just _tell_ him?”

“It would be,” Kris’s voice is rising in anger. “But I won’t. I learned my lesson okay? You don’t need to remind me.”

“So it was just a coincidence then?” Malcom asks, plucking a nonexistent piece of lint from his finely tailored suit.

“I just…thought it. I put it out there, I guess. You know, there are still some of them, maybe a lot of them, who consider me their friend—“

“Friend?” Malcolm asks, something close to amusement in his voice.

“Well, maybe not friends, but…admirers. Amongst the fairies especially. The woodland gods. Maybe not friends, okay. They sympathize. Or something, I don’t know.”

“Ah yes,” Malcolm strides across Kris’s small room towards the large circular windows, ducking his head to fit under the slanted roof. “Too bad these ‘sympathizers’ can’t just free you. Make it all disappear. Turn back the clock.”

“I’m grateful for what they have done,” Kris responds, accusingly. “At least they’ve done _something_.

Malcolm looks up, sharply.

Kris is breathless with anger. “And I didn’t do anything wrong. Someone must have…sensed it, and decided hey, maybe it is a good time for some snow. It’s not like it’s uncommon up here, you know. In the middle of winter. And it’s not like I would have wasted it on that…or like I even need that, okay so take your accusations and--”

“I’m on your side, Kristopher,” Malcolm interrupts, his voice calm and soothing. “Please remember that.”

“So you aren’t…you’re not…just, don’t pull me out this time, okay? I won’t do it again.”

Malcolm nods. “Just be careful. We all have to abide by the rules. That goes for me too. If it happens again, the punishment—“

“I know the punishment,” Kris says, sitting down on his bed heavily. He lived it. An extra lifetime, without the chance to see Adam, or make him remember. Without the chance to break the curse. “I don’t need to use it anyway. He’s…he’s mine. He just has to remember that. That’s all.”

“But don’t you think it’s strange,” Kris continues, the thought is just occurring to him. “That both times, he died so young? I mean, it was 1952 right? 58 years ago. Both of those lives, he died before he even made it to 30.”

“It’s sad, maybe,” Malcolm responds decisively. “But hardly out of the ordinary.”

Kris shakes his head. “What if…what if he knows? Somewhere deep down. And he’s—“

“Where are you going with this?” Malcolm asks, but his voice is sad rather than angry. “Don’t do this to yourself Kris.”

“I didn’t expect you to understand,” Kris says, rising. “I’m going back down now. Christmas dinner. First one I’ve had in…I can’t even remember how long.”

“Is it Christmas?” Malcolm asks, and Kris is startled by something almost wistful in his voice. It’s rare for Malcolm to lose that calm, collected tone. “I didn’t realize.”

“Do you…are you…do you have plans for Christmas?” Kris has known Malcolm for centuries now, in some ways, but he never really thought of him as a person, with a family or friends or a life.

“No, no. Of course not. There are things to be done. Appointments, and charges to look after.”

“Why do you do this, Malcolm?” Kris asks, his voice low. “Why do you do his bidding?”

Malcolm smiles ruefully, looking off, somewhere beyond Kris. “You’re not the only one who fell victim to his wrath, Kristopher.”

They stand in silence for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” Kris finally speaks. “I didn’t know.”

“Merry Christmas,” Malcolm says with a tight smile.

Kris blinks and he’s gone.

 

****************************

Christmas is more than Kris could have hoped for.

Not just seeing Adam so happy, so in his element amongst friends and loved ones; not just being close enough to see the way the wine stains the ivory of his cheeks a pinkish hue, makes his voice more sultry and a little slurred in the most endearing way; not just having an excuse to hug and laugh and smile to his heart’s content.

It’s more than just Adam. It reminds Kris of what it’s like to be alive, to be happy, to have a reprieve, even for a short while. It’s the glow on Allison’s face whenever anyone compliments a dish, the laughter in the air, the pure white snow falling outside. He feels blessed, and locks this memory away in the fortress of happy moments he’s saving deep inside.

He tries to keep his mind on track, so he doesn’t forget that he’s not a normal 25 year old, hanging out with his friends during the holidays. Forgetting that means losing focus, and losing focus means it will all be over too soon. One more futile attempt and a return to his lonely pond, forever Winter but never Christmas. .

“That’s Brad,” Allison whispers conspiratorially, when Kris follows her into the kitchen to help carve the turkey and ham. “The ex. They’re just friends now, but man that was messy. Be glad you missed the drama.”

No wonder, Kris thinks. Brad had been nothing but nice and friendly, but he’d given Kris a peculiar look when they met, a look Kris couldn’t quite understand at the time. Kris imagines he’s probably looking at Brad that same way now.

Brad is roughly Kris’s height, lean, with brown hair, big brown eyes, a sharp jaw. He’s like Kris’s double just…pointier. And louder. Funnier too.

Kris almost has a moment of questioning, whether he needs to be those things, whether that’s what Adam wants. He shakes it off, reminding himself that he knows Adam, knows his _soul._ A lifetime of circumstances can change habits and customs, but it could never alter something as intrinsic as what they share.

He gives a toast, towards the end of the night, the perfect night, when everyone is full and happy, content. He thanks Allison and Adam for being so welcoming and making him feel like he’s part of their little family (he doesn’t mention the mysterious Tre, who he still hasn’t seen, much less met).

It’s a little too formal, old habits and customs being hard to break, but it’s sincere and perfectly Kris. Allison even tears up a little before engulfing him in a bear hug. Adam just smiles at him from his seat, the look on his face making Kris’s heart hurt with all the things he can’t say.

All in all, it’s the best Christmas Kris can remember, no magic required.

****************************

The days pass too quickly for Kris, when each one has to count for something.

He can’t seem to pin down Adam’s schedule, probably because he doesn’t have one, picking up odd shifts and last minute gigs whenever he can. Kris is dying to watch him perform, but it feels too personal to just show up uninvited, and so far Adam hasn’t mentioned it.

So Kris feels like he’s walking into a dream when, just a few days after Christmas, he returns from a quick trip to grab lunch and finds Adam sitting cross-legged on the floor in their living room, working on a song.

He glances up at Kris and gives him a smile, before sighing down at the paper on the coffee table in front of him, crumbling it into a ball.

Kris sits down tentatively on the couch, trying to keep a safe distance between them, so he doesn’t do anything like, say, tackle kiss him again. Or worse. If there is a worse.

“Workin on something?” Kris asks casually, unwrapping the sandwich from its thick foil.

“Just a song,” Adam mumbles, glancing up and eyeing the food hungrily. “Is that from Main Street Bistro?”

“Yeah,” Kris grins. “Linda talked me into a vegan meatball sandwich. Which just sounds wrong, but she was so sweet about it, and she seemed really concerned with the amount of meat I’ve been consuming, so…”

“You’re too easy Kris. If you’re not careful, Tom’ll having you wearing hemp shirts soon.”

Kris smiles and bites into the sandwich. Not bad, actually. He notices Adam still looking at the half he left on the table, and slides it his way. Adam shakes his head no, not very convincingly.

“It’s too much for me,” Kris argues. “I had a giant omelet for breakfast. It’ll just go to waste, and that…would probably make Linda cry.”

Adam grins, easily convinced. “I don’t know how you eat like that.”

Kris shrugs. “Just how I was raised, I guess.”

Adam moans after the first bite. “So fucking good. Whoever invented cheese is a genius. I’d like to give him an award. Or a blowjob. Whichever he’d prefer.”

Kris just laughs. Adam still seems genuinely surprised by how difficult it is to shock Kris. And Kris really enjoys the happy surprise on Adam’s face whenever Kris doesn’t react the way he expected.

“So how’s it going?” Kris asks a moment later. “The song I mean.”

“It sucks, basically,” Adam says, groaning for emphasis. “Maybe I’m just not a songwriter. But I hear it in my head, this tune? Except I don’t know how to play the guitar, and all we have are fucking guitars, and I don’t know how to get the words down with this melody in my head.”

“Here,” Kris says, wiping his hands on some napkins and grabbing a nearby acoustic. “Let me help.”

“You play?” Adam asks, watching Kris tune the instrument, long, strong fingers gliding over the strings. “Handy little thing aren’t you?”

Kris smirks, but doesn’t look up. “Sing it for me, and I can try to play it for you. Maybe the words will come.”

He nearly drops the guitar when Adam starts to hum the melody. If it wasn’t firmly nestled in his lap, it would probably be on the floor.

It had been so long since he heard that voice, its pure clean perfection. A stranger would call it the voice of an angel, but to Kris it’s so much more. The faint ghost of those notes had haunted his waking dreams for so long. Getting to hear it in person, five feet away from him, was almost too much to take.

He tries to regain his composure, looking down so Adam can’t see the tears that have welled up in his eyes. He strums his fingers carefully, trying to catch a melody from Adam’s notes.

“The thing is,” Adam says, interrupting his own singing abruptly. “I don’t hear it on a guitar? It’s more of a…piano.”

Kris nods, still looking down. “Do you have a keyboard or something?”

Living with musicians, it had been easy for Kris to acclimate himself to the world of modern instruments. Allison’s band was over all the time and Kris came home one day to find one of the guys in her band with a keyboard, but slung over his shoulder like a guitar. The guy, bleached white, half shaved head, had called it a “throwback to the 80’s, but not in an ironic way, you know? In a reverential way.” Except the kid couldn’t even play the thing, he just liked the look. Allison had rolled her eyes, which made Kris laugh, and then feel immediately terrible at the wounded look he got from the guy in return. He told him it was really cool, and he meant it. Not the look of it, or the ridiculous explanation, but the keyboard itself. A traveling, mobile piano. Amazing.

“Do you play piano too?” Adam exclaims, excited. “Oh my God, this is like, fate. The only other person I know who plays is Cassidy, and he charges me 50 bucks a session no matter what, the greedy bastard.”

He stands up, quickly, grabbing Kris’s hand. The touch makes Kris’s skin tingle.

“Where are we going?” He asks, sparing a backwards glance towards his half eaten sandwich. He hadn’t actually eaten anything that morning and his stomach was starting to rumble. He’d just known Adam wouldn’t take the other half unless he said that. And he really really wanted Adam to have anything he wanted. He didn’t understand how other people weren’t constantly giving him things, just to see his smile in return.

“You’ll see,” Adam grins, excitedly wrapping Kris’s scarf around his neck to get him moving faster.

Kris has a flash, of another time and place, Adam standing before him, wrapping a thick wool scarf around his neck, leaning down for a kiss. That same smile, that same excitement, but a familiarity between them, no need to even speak. When they were both young, and free. A different time, a different world, but so much the same…

His breath catches, and he tries not to let Adam notice.

He finds himself pulled out into the sunny winter light, Adam still holding his hand, half falling on the slippery sidewalks a dozen times in his excitement. It’s farther into town than Kris has gone before, a small road off Main Street, when Adam stops in front of a little club. Sam’s Place the sign reads. It’s one of the clubs Adam sometimes plays at, Kris knows. Not the usual college crowd, they’re stricter about their ID policy, and they’ve got a good enough reputation for their entertainment that they can get by without the easy cash from 18 year olds looking for a night of cheap beer.

“Sorry,” Adam says, breathless, pulling out a set of keys to open the large gated front door. “I just didn’t want to lose the moment. It’s so elusive sometimes, my muse.”

“They just let you come in here whenever you want?” Kris asks, his voice echoing through the empty room. It’s a good size, with a slightly raised platform for a stage. On the left of the stage is a gorgeous, shiny grand piano, and Adam pulls Kris towards it, turning around with a grin. His excitement is contagious and Kris finds himself itching to play.

He seats himself slowly, easing onto the hard black bench, staring over the keys with rapt attention. Adam straddles the other end of the bench, facing him, watching as Kris delicately touches the keys, not pressing down hard enough to make a sound.

It’s been forever since he’s even seen a piano, much less played one. Since his own lifetime, even, before he was cursed, when he was little more than a boy.

There’s a book of sheet music perched on the piano’s ledge, and he opens it up and begins playing, just to test it out, and see if he still can. It’s an old classic, Für Elise, but in his lifetime it was new, not even officially released till long after he had already been cursed. But Kris had heard it played many times before, and knew it well. Soon enough he’s not looking at the music, fingers dancing over the keys from pure memory, eyes closed and foot tapping the pedal softy.

He finishes with a flourish, and stares into space for a moment, feeling the music flow out of him.

“Beautiful,” Adam says, his voice thick.

Kris turns to him, dazed. He’d almost forgotten Adam was there for a moment. Adam just looks at him, as if entranced.

“I wish I knew how to play,” Adam says a moment later. He picks up the book of sheet music. It’s a beginner’s book, Kris notes. Does Sam rent the space out for lessons? He knows most of the songs, but there are also more modern ones he doesn’t recognize. “I always meant to learn…”

“I could teach you,” Kris smiles softly. “I used to teach music…before….”

“Really?” Adam looks at him, excited. “I’d love that. I mean, I don’t even know how to read, but I know the scales.”

“Reading is the easy part,” Kris begins. “It takes time, but there are some tricks.”

“Tricks!” Adam exclaims. “I like the sound of that.”

Kris laughs, and grabs the pencil Adam had stuck above his ear during his writing session earlier.

“For the treble clef, from the bottom up, it’s Every Good Boy Does Fine—see, EGDF?” Kris writes the letters in the side of the margin. “And then “FACE” for the spaces. And on the bass clef, it’s Good Boys Do Fine Always, and All Cows Eat Grass. But I always found it easiest just to memorize it. After a while you can erase the cheat marks, it just takes practice.”

“Hmmm,” Adam says, his arm pressed against Kris, looking over the paper in his lap “So this here is a D?”

“Yeah,” Kris’s voice is barely above a whisper. He can smell Adam’s cologne, can see the soft fluttering of his eyelashes against his cheek as he looks down. “Um, a sharp.”

“Right, right,” Adam mutters. He places his hands on the keys. “Can I try it? I mean it’s a kid’s song, I think I can get it.”

Kris gets up to stand behind him, adjusting his fingers and makes small corrections as Adam starts to play the melody to Brahams Lullaby. He shows him how to play it, one hand at a time, sitting down when Adam feels ready to combine the chords and the melody.

It’s sloppy and involves a lot of starts and stops, but he’s picking it up quickly, far quicker than any of Kris’s past students.

When it’s done, he turns to Kris, shyly proud.

“Excellent work,” Kris smiles.

“You’re a great teacher,” Adam laughs softly, still looking at Kris.

Adam is close enough that Kris can see every tiny freckle on Adam’s face, the ones he tries to hide under makeup. He can practically feel Adam’s breath on him. They stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, their smiles fading to something else…

As if in a dream, not of his own volition, Kris’s hand reaches up to rest gently on Adam’s shoulder, and his face drifts forward, just as Adam pulls back.

“Shit,” he mutters, embarrassed and turning away quickly. “I’m…I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That is not…it’s so inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

Adam laughs, easily. “It’s okay. I’m not…offended or anything. I get it. I mean, I was just like that, when I first came out. Well, not exactly, but I get it.”

Kris’s eyes narrow in confusion, and he blinks down at his hands, thinking he should probably sit on them, like a child who can’t control himself.

“That’s it, right?” Adam says, and when Kris finally looks at him, his face is full of concern and…maybe pity? “I don’t mean to assume. But you remind me of how I was, so I just figured…I know it’s a really confusing time. I don’t…don’t be embarrassed. I did way crazier things. So if you ever need to like, talk to someone, someone who has gone through it too? You know, I’m here.”

Kris just nods in return.

Adam clears his throat, changing the subject “So…about that song?”

Kris stares at him a moment longer than his manners should allow, and then turns back to the piano. “Right. Right. We should. Right. So, hum it again and I’ll see if I can match it.”

It takes a few tries of Kris playing what Adam sings, moving his fingers higher and higher up the octaves to match Adam’s unreal range. But Adam just sighs, frustrated.

“It’s not…right. I’m probably singing it wrong, because when I hear it in my head it’s like…Can I try?” He asks, motioning towards the keys.

Kris moves aside, giving him enough room and Adam falteringly pounds out a tune, after many stops and starts. Impressive, using just his pointer finger, Kris notes with a smile.

But a few moments later the smile is wiped from his face. He recognizes the song.

He starts to play, fingers shaking over the ivory keys. He begins with the chords, deep and dark, and seamlessly adds the melancholy melody.

“I didn’t realize it was such a sad song,” Adam whispers when Kris finishes, the vibrations of the piano beginning to settle. Kris doesn’t turn to face him, his head still bowed. “How do you know it?”

But Kris just shakes his head, unable to answer. It wouldn’t make any sense if he tried to tell the truth, it wouldn’t seem possible. _I know it, because I wrote it. I know it because I’ve been listening to it for the past two hundred years._

He shrugs his shoulders and mumbles something about having heard it somewhere.

Adam seems lost in thought, a pensive look on his face. Kris futilely tries to block out the memories rushing through his mind.

 _“Why do you never sing for me?” Adam had whispered, his lips against Kris’s ear forming a pout. “Your voice is so sweet, why do you hide it?”_

 _Kris had laughed, easily, resting his chin on Adam’s shoulder and tightening his embrace. “I like composing songs for you to sing to me. I’m selfish that way.”_

 _He could feel those lips form a smile, moving against his jaw, forming a path to his mouth. “Maybe I will write songs for you to sing then, my love. Would you, if I wrote you a song? Would you sing for me?”_

 _“Yes, Adam, I would sing a thousand songs for you.”_

 _“No more sad songs.” The words breathed against his lips. “Where does this sadness come from? Write me a love song to sing, that is all I can understand now that I have you.”_

 _And Kris had smiled, not spoiling the moment with talk of his dark dreams. His life was full of sunshine and laughter and happiness and Adam. He could write a million love songs and never run out of words and melodies._

“Shit,” Adam exclaims, snapping Kris out of the past, and back to the here and now. “I remember where I heard it now.”

Kris feels a knot of dread form in his stomach.

Like a sleepwalker, he lets Adam guide him back to their house, up the stairs and into his room. He looked around as if in a fog, knowing what was to come.

“I bought it like, three weeks ago I think? It was at a flea market! Donna’s mother was getting rid of everything in their garage, and Ali bought a blow up doll and I was all set to buy this old as hell Beatles t-shirt, which would have been cool but then I saw it.”

He’s talking a mile a minute and Kris can barely keep up. He walks to Adam’s bed and sits tentatively on the edge, too dazed to first ask for permission. How can this be? It can’t be a coincidence, but what kind of new game, what new brand of torture are they throwing at him now?

“Ahh, here it is!” Adam exclaims. He has his back to Kris, sifting through a box in the corner of the room. “It’s totally not my style, I don’t even know what made me buy it. Not like I have anywhere to display it or anything but…see?”

Kris looks up through the fog of his mind, and sees Adam proudly holding up a snow globe. A simple, beautiful thing. Kris has never seen it from the outside, but he knows what it is, can feel it drawing him towards it. He feels weak but can’t look away.

“And that tune, that melody that was stuck in my head, this is where it’s from,” Adam is still excited, as if he just discovered something amazing. “I didn’t recognize it, and when you played it, it sounded so different, like a real song. But how did you know—“

“How much did you pay for it?” Kris asks, his voice strangled and tight as he stands up, his eyes focused on the globe in Adam’s hands. “Did you get a good deal?”

“Yeah, it was like, 20 bucks? Probably more than it’s worth but I really wanted it--”

“Oh, it’s worth far more than that,” Kris says, taking the object from Adam’s offering hands. “It’s an antique. At least a century old, probably older. The French didn’t start making these until the late 1800’s, but there were American artists doing it earlier than that. See this key? It controls the mechanism inside. Not like the ones from today, those are automatic. And if you look inside,” Kris peers through the glass “you can see the artist’s marking, see near the trees? ‘RS’”

“Shit,” Adam says, impressed. “You know a lot about this. Did you, like, study snow globes in school?” He jokes. “So it’s worth some cash? Maybe I should try and sell it, get on Antiques Roadshow or something—“

“No,” Kris almost yells “You can’t. You won’t. Promise me you’ll keep it.”

Adam looks at him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“I just mean,” Kris says, trying to regain his composure. “It’ll be worth so much more in years to come. So you have to keep it. Promise?”

Adam gives him a confused smile. “Sure. If you think…I mean, sure.” He shrugs.

Kris places the globe on a long shelf, next to pictures of Adam’s family and friends, pictures of Adam on stage, a life laid out of happy moments, frozen and captured forever.

“Guess I’m not much of a songwriter,” Adam laughs. “Pretty much plagiarizing there. It’s so weird, though, you know I only heard it once? When Donna’s mom showed me how to wind it up. It’s so funny that it was stuck in my head after just one time.”

Kris nods, distracted and still staring at the globe, staring through the glass at the lifelessly smiling man inside. What would happen, if he smashed it right now? Just let it fall to the floor until it was broken into a thousand pieces, the water streaming out onto Adam’s throw rug, the tiny plastic snow scattered through the floorboards? Would he be free? Would he be granted a reprieve? Or would he be trapped once more, in a newer, darker prison for eternity?

“Hey,” Adam says, turning Kris around to face him. “I just had the most brilliant idea. I’m playing Sam’s on New Years. Awesome gig right? And I need an accompanist. Cassidy has been bitching about wanting to go to Times Square, like that’s not completely clichéd and annoying. Who needs to stand in the cold for five hours, peeing into a bottle? And he charges too much anyway, and you play so well, if you think you could learn the songs in time, I could give you a key to the club so you could practice. I know it’s short notice, but it’ll pay decent and…are you at all interested?”

Kris looks up in wonder, trying to focus on Adam’s words. Spending New Years with Adam, getting to watch him perform, seeing his face as a New Year dawns. There’s nothing he could want more.

“I’d love to,” he says, forcing a smile, his mind still distracted. “Seriously, that sounds amazing. And you don’t have to pay me.”

“Great!” Adam exclaims, pulling him into a brief hug that steals his breath. “I’m so excited. It should be a lot of fun. And of course I’m paying you. But speaking of money,” he says, pulling away with a glance at his watch. “I’m late for work. Filling in for my buddy Jessica down at the new pasta shop.”

“New pasta shop?” Kris asks absentmindedly.

“Rock da Pasta,” Adam says with a laugh, pulling on his jacket. “Stupid name, but really good food. You should stop by for dinner, if you want. I can probably sneak you and Ali some free stuff. The magic mushrooms are to die for.”

Kris smiles in return, and follows Adam out into the hallway, throwing one last solemn glance at the snow globe across the room before he shuts the door firmly behind him.

****************************

 

“You know you’re gonna need a new outfit for it, right?” Allison asks, munching on a breadstick. “Not that there’s anything wrong with your clothes! Simple is good, really. It’s like, its own statement. But New Years…and you’re performing. You need something jazzier, you know?”

“Jazzy?” Kris gives her a look over his menu. “So I need to dress like Dizzy Gillespie?”

“That’s one approach,” Allison nods, pensively. “But there are other ways to go.”

He gives her a mock sigh but smiles and agrees. She’s going to have her way whether he fights it or not, and the truth is, he was thinking about something new, something different. He doesn’t tend to give much thought to his clothes, but he’d like to look special. For Adam. He can’t even imagine what Adam will be wearing.

“Fantastic!” She exclaims. “But don’t tell Adam. It’ll be a nice surprise, okay? Plus we’re gonna have to take his car to get to the mall, and there’s no reason he needs to know that.”

“Why do we have to go to a mall?” he asks, savoring a mouthful of garlic bread. “There’s plenty of stores here in town.”

“Uh, yeah, if you want to wear a tye-dye ‘Impeach Bush’ t-shirt or a flannel hunter’s button down. Those are basically your options here. Sssh here he comes.”

“Good evening Madam,” Adam says, half bowing in a grand gesture of formality. “Sir. My name is Adam and I will be your server tonight. Please let me know if--”

“We need more bread,” Allison says sweetly. “And I’d like a glass of red wine. Kris, should we make it a bottle?”

“Nice try,” Adam sneers. “And just for that I’m making you a Shirley Temple.”

“With extra cherries please,” she grins, closing her menu.

“I’ll have the sweet tea,” Kris adds. “This menu is hilarious. Who wrote this?”

“I know, right? And the food is ah-may-zing. You have to have the magic mushrooms—“

“Well, of course, they’re a ‘A psychedelic ceremony of cremini & shitake boomers’” Kris reads with a laugh. “What do you recommend for the main course?”

“Hmmm,” Adam ponders. “It’s all good. I really like The Cheese Tortellini Incident. Ali, you should totally get that. And for Kris, I think the Hey Jude, over penne pasta.”

Allison shrugs. “My thoughts don’t go beyond Yum, Pastsa.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks,” Adam winks and strides away.

The place is packed, so Adam doesn’t have a chance to sit down and chat with them at all, but Allison entertains Kris with stories of her band and some boy at school she thinks likes her, but is too shy to talk to her. Kris loves listening to her, her raspy voice and funny anecdotes. He really lucked out in finding that house, in more way than one.

They share a James Brownie Sundae at the end of the night, and Adam appears apologetically with the check.

“I’m sorry, the head manager is here so I couldn’t get this comped”

“No problem,” Kris grabs the bill from Adam’s hands. “You look swamped.”

“Serving is killer,” Adam agrees. “They say the tips make up for it, but so far I’m not seeing it. Damn, people are taking this whole recession thing seriously.”

He’s off quickly to fend to other customers, and Kris takes out some cash for the bill, Allison eyeing him suspiciously, biting on her straw.

“He’s not gonna take that big of a tip from you,” she says. “Just so you know.”

Kris bites his bottom lip, and looks around to make sure Adam’s nowhere nearby. He leans around to the now empty booth behind him, and grabs their bill. Cheap bastards, they barely left ten percent. He adds a fifty to the pile.

“Don’t tell,” he gives Allison his most charming smile, and she just shrugs.

“Hey, it’s your money. But you know, when we go shopping tomorrow, there’s this pair of leather boots I’ve been eying, they’re only three grand,” she smiles sweetly. “If you’re still feeling generous.”

 

****************************

 

Allison drives exactly the way Kris would expect, speeding up and slowing down randomly, turning to talk to him excitedly and nearly steering off the road when she does. Kris feels a little nauseous when they finally arrive at the mall parking lot, and then overwhelmed when they step inside. It’s a giant structure, with stores everywhere. If Allison wasn’t with him, Kris would probably be wandering around aimlessly for hours.

Clothes were never really his thing, even in his lifetime. His family didn’t have much money, and he made do with hand-me downs. He never gave his looks much thought.

But Adam, Adam was always different. Even when they were kids, his clothes were impeccable, never careless, and he always had certain flair. Certainly not dramatic in the way he is today, Kris thinks, remembering the purple velvet suits that shocked their small town to the core. If only they could see him now.

Allison drags him from store to store, making him try on leather pants (definitely not happening, especially when he has to sit at a piano all night) and mesh tank tops. She finally settles on a short sleeve button down, a skinny black tie, and skintight sparkling black jeans. She agrees to let him wear his white Converse, because it’ll “complete the look.”

It’s actually not bad, Kris thinks to himself. It’s not too outrageous, but it’s a nice little sprucing up compared to his everyday jeans and t-shirts.

“Will you help me with my hair too?” he asks her, and she grins in response.

“It’s gonna be so much fun!” she exclaims. “I wish I could go. Stupid liquor licenses ruining everything.”

“I’m sure your party will be great,” Kris says as she leads him out of the store. “So are we all done? I’m pretty beat—“

“Well I’m starving,” she says, guiding him towards the escalator to the lower floor. “Time to hit up the food court.”

Kris nods, pretending to know what that is. He’s amazed to find a giant open hall filled with restaurant stands, one after another. Much to Allison’s amusement, he wants to try them all, but somewhere between the Bourbon Chicken and the Orange Julius he starts to feel like he might die from fullness.

“Hey Kris,” Allison asks, picking at her hamburger. She won’t look up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course,” Kris says, eyeing the last bits of his burrito and debating whether it’s worth the hurt to finish it.

“It’s probably none of my business, but I was just wondering…how come you pay for everything in cash? Like, your jeans were over a hundred bucks and most people would whip out a credit or debit card.”

Kris is silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.

 _Because whenever I need cash, it’s there. I just have to think it. Just like clothes or a car or anything else I might need. Because they decided to grace me with the tiniest bit of magic to make sure I can get by, but I can never use to it help do the only thing I really need to do. Because they found one more way to torture me, knowing it’s there, and I can’t use it._

“I just…prefer cash?” he answers meekly.

“But like, where does it come from? Is your family rich, do your parents just wire it to you or--”

“I don’t have any family,” Kris interrupts.

“Oh,” Allison says quietly, looking down again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind you asking,” Kris says encouragingly. “It was a long time ago anyway. And that’s how I got the money. When…all that happened.”

“Like an accident?” Allison asks, her face concerned. “Insurance money?”

“Something like that,” Kris answers quickly, wanting to change the subject. He hates lying. “And I just don’t trust banks is all. But I promise, I don’t rob them either.”

“Shut up,” she laughs, punching him softly in the arm. “I didn’t even think that.”

“You sure?” Kris says, his eyes dancing. “You weren’t picturing me in a black burglar mask?”

“You are way too polite to be a bank robber, with your ma’am’s and please and thank you’s.” She turns serious again a moment later. “So, you’re not mad I asked?”

“I am,” he says, standing up and reaching for her hand. “And to make it up to me, I demand you need to let me drive home. I mean, please, ma’am.”

****************************

 

He gets up early on New Year’s Eve day and heads down to Sam’s to get in some last minute practicing. He feels pretty comfortable with the music, but three days to learn eight new songs is not a lot, and he’s got butterflies in his stomach from the thought of that night. It’s more than the thought of performing—even though he was never a performer, not really, he was always comfortable playing anywhere—it’s the thought of Adam, singing his heart out just a few feet away.

By the time he gets home, Adam’s locked himself in his bedroom, apparently in full preparation mode. Allison practically throws Kris into the shower, yelling about how there’s only an hour and a half for him to get ready. Which, Kris thinks, really seems like three times as much as necessary, even including the shower.

He sits on the closed toilet seat in their bathroom while Allison fusses with his hair. He even lets her talk him into wearing some eyeliner, which he isn’t so sure about. Kris has a tendency to rub his eyes, and he thinks by the end of the night he’ll look like a raccoon.

“Well, don’t do that then,” Allison says, demanding. “Cause this looks killer right now, and I do not want you to fuck it up. Got it?”

Kris nods and stands up at her urging. “Let me get one last look at you.” She looks him over critically, adds something pink and creamy to his cheeks, and seems satisfied with the result.

“Not bad,” she says. “If I do say so myself. Now, I’ve gotta get ready too. I’ll probably still be in the shower when you guys leave, so have an _amazing_ time.” She gives him a very careful hug. “I guess I’ll see you in 2011.”

Adam’s still not ready, so Kris sits in the living room by himself waiting. He picks up a piece of ribbon from the floor, leftover from a Christmas gift ripped open in excitement (they’re really not the neatest of households) and plays with it, twirling it over and around his fingers.

He looks up a few minutes later, to find Adam standing in the doorway, watching him with a smile.

“Hey,” Kris stammers. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“I know,” Adam says, still smiling. “It was more fun that way.”

“You look…” Kris’s voice trails off, taking in Adam’s intricate leather outfit, his thick black hair falling loosely to the side, full of lighter brown and reddish strands on top. His makeup is subdued, compared to what Kris was expecting, but whatever he’s done to his eyes is incredible, they look bluer than ever, and his lips…Kris has to tear his eyes away from Adam’s lips. It’s only then that he notices Adam’s wearing three inch platforms, and he looks just… “Amazing.”

“Thanks,” Adam looks down at himself proudly. “It better hold up the whole night, after all that work.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Kris laughs. “I could barely sit still for twenty minutes to let Allison do whatever it is she did.”

“I still can’t believe you let Allison take you shopping,” Adam’s pink-glossed lips form a pout. “And without me!”

“She wanted it to be a surprise,” Kris shrugs. “I don’t think it’s much of a surprise though. Nothing special really.”

“No,” Adam tilts his head to the side, his eyes on Kris. “It’s something really special, actually.”

Kris smiles happily, and lets Adam lead him out of the house and towards the club.

It’s already packed when they get there, a warm-up comedian on the stage. Everyone is drinking and laughing happily, and the crowd cheers loudly when Adam’s set is announced.

Adam comes alive on stage, in a way Kris has never seen before. He plays with the audience, making them laugh one moment, and has them near tears the next. He has them in the palm of his hand from the word Go.

On this kind of night, Kris would expect them to want upbeat songs, maybe some holiday tunes thrown in, but the audience sits quietly through the slow songs, the ones of love and heartbreak, enraptured by Adam’s voice and the passion of his singing.

Kris manages to keep up, and Adam adds him to the show, turning to him during the particularly raunchy jokes, and laughing happily when Kris banters back.

“It’s always the innocent looking ones,” Adam tells the audience. “Gotta watch out for those.”

Adam sits next to him close to midnight, and insists Kris join him in singing Auld Lang Syne. Kris easily sings along, as the streamers pop around him and confetti rains down, seemingly from nowhere.

 _Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…_

“Happy New Year,” Adam whispers, turning to him once the song is over. The audience is drunk and happy, distracted by the chaos and merriment all around.

Kris smiles and kisses Adam on the cheek, proud of himself for his self- control. He’s ridiculously happy, giddy with the thrill of the moment, of the New Year, and sharing it with Adam. Watching Adam he realizes how special this time is, this lifetime, really. This is the one time, finally, where Adam doesn’t have to hide. He can be as outrageous as he wants. Even in their lifetime, even when they were together and free, they would have always had to hide, their kind of love never accepted. But here, in this world, even if nothing else works out, Adam is free. His kind of wild beauty isn’t tamed here, but embraced. Kris wants to cry from how happy the thought of that makes him.

“This is my favorite life,” Kris says sincerely, a little drunk on champagne. “I mean, time. I’m just happy. To be here, right now.”

“Me too,” Adam smiles at him, his hand rubbing the back of Kris’s neck, pulling him closer. He looks into Kris’s eyes, for just a moment, before closing the distance between them with a kiss. A real kiss, that lasts and lasts and Kris lets himself fall into it until he’s breathless. Adam pulls away a moment later, ending the kiss with a hug and laughing as he stands up, pulling Kris to his feet.

“Best part of performing here,” he pulls Kris off the stage and towards the bar. “We get free drinks afterward.”

He lets Adam feed him delicious drinks, made sweet with some sort of Adam specific concoction, and the rest of the night is a happy blur.

 

****************************

 

He wakes up New Years Day with a killer hangover, and stumbles out of bed in search of aspirin. Adam’s already gone, somehow, unfairly, able to function and work at 9 am despite drinking as least as much as Kris did. Allison groggily stumbles into the kitchen, looking like she’s in a similar state. He hands her a bottle of water and a few pills, and they grunt at each other unhappily.

On his way back up to his room he sees a small, dark haired boy with hazel eyes slip out of the bathroom and into her room, and wonders if that’s the shy boy from her class, David…Something. Kris smiles a little, but that makes his head hurt more, so he just climbs the rest of the way to the attic and crawls under the covers for the rest of the day. He knows Adam is scheduled to work all day and that night, so he decides to spend the first day of 2011 sleeping.

It messes with his usual schedule, which has him rising with the sun most mornings. Adam likes to tease him that he’s still on farm time, but the truth is he just doesn’t want to waste a moment, not even on sleep. So a few days later, he’s confused to find Adam gently jostling him awake. It’s nearly 8 a.m. and he should have been up for hours already.

“Is everything okay?” he asks blearily wiping his eyes. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m so sorry,” Adam says, looking frantic. “I wouldn’t do this, but it’s an emergency.”

Kris bolts up right away. “Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“No, no,” Adam shakes his head apologetically. “I’m fine, really. It’s just…well, Betty called this morning, and half the teachers at the preschool came down with the flu? You know they refused to get the flu shot because they don’t trust vaccines, and I completely forgot that I promised her yesterday that I’d come in and help out if they needed it.”

“Oh,” Kris says, confused.

“But the thing is,” Adam continues. “I forgot that I already had a shift at the music store. And Ali’s going in too, but they need more than one sub and—“

“So you want me to take your shift at the store?”

“I totally would,” Adam says emphatically “But Billy is like, a Nazi when it comes to his instruments, and if he knew you he’d be fine with it, but he doesn’t know you yet and so…”

“So you want me to go help out with the kids.”

“They’re totally cute! And it’s just till 1:30. And…and you’d be doing me a huge favor!”

Kris blinks his eyes hard a few times, trying to wake up, and then slides his feet over the edge of the bed. “Just give me like twenty minutes to get ready.”

“You are seriously the best roommate ever. I mean, don’t tell Ali that. But, really, thank you so much.”

Kris shrugs, but looks down to hide his smile. “It’s no big deal. I like kids. I think they like me. Not a problem.”

“I’m gonna go make your lunch,” Adam jumps up and heads to the door. “And if you want we can all eat together? I can come pick you guys up during my break, you should be done by then.”

The Bumble Bee Day Care Center, like many businesses in town, is in a converted house. Kris thinks it must have been a mansion, because it’s tremendous, and there are different rooms, with large open doors, to separate the children by ages. Allison is sent to help care for the babies, and Kris is put in charge of one of the groups of three to five year olds.

He spends the day helping them paint and draw, watches over them during naptime, when they lay down on yoga mats scattered throughout the large room. Some are still little enough to be sucking their thumb, while others are old enough to only pretend to sleep while surely plotting nefarious plans.

Lunchtime is noon, and the kids quickly inform Kris that it’s also Storytime.

“We always get a story with lunch Mister Kris,” Lisa Litman tells him.

Kris senses a chant is just seconds away, and an angry mob of hungry four year olds could probably do some damage, so he agrees to tell them a story. He doesn’t know that many fairy tales, so he tells them the one he knows best: his own.

Like most stories, it’s somewhere between truth and exaggeration. It’s not that far a stretch from the real story, of the preacher’s son, who was destined to be a poor farmer had he not caught the eye and heart of the aristocratic nobleman, and how they grew to love one another in secret, until they were torn apart.

There had been little magic in Kris’s life before he was cursed. He had believed in God and good, the way his father taught him, in the simple beauty of a growing crop and a pleasant melody. Adam had brought the real magic into his world, not the kind that required spells and potions, but magic sprung from pure affection and devotion.

The shock of evil, at the happiest time of his short life, took decades for him to comprehend. How could it exist alongside such grace and beauty?

 _”Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a beautiful Prince. He was tall, and handsome and everyone in the land loved him. The Prince lived in a mansion in the middle of the town, and was the brightest student in his class, and everyday—“_

“Don’t Princes live in castles?” Alan Brown asks, making a mess of his tuna sandwich.

“Well, some do,” Kris answers. “But this Prince was a little different.”

 _”As I was saying, everyday this Prince would go out into the fields and woods of his land, and explore the grounds. And that was how he met the boy who was to be the Caretaker of the Woods. The Caretaker of the Woods, still a child at the time, lived with his family in a modest house, with no servants or grounds. But it was a house full of love. The boy loved nothing more than to roam through the woods of the village, singing his simple song to the trees and animals and flowers. And in time, the forest and the animals that lived there grew to love him back, and they flourished under his song._

 _One day, the Prince heard his song, and was entranced. He sought out this common boy, and watched him from afar, waiting for the day they could meet._

 _Not everyone liked the Caretaker of the Woods. They thought he was different and strange, and they picked on him because he was little and poor, and sang to himself. He didn’t have any friends, except for his brother, who wasn’t different or strange, and had friends of his own. So the little boy was alone most of the time, but he didn’t mind so much, as long as he had the trees and the flowers, and all the animals that lived in the woods to keep him company._

 _The boy was scared of the Prince at first, but the Prince sang a song so sweet and pure, the boy could not resist. He soon found the Prince was so kind and funny, and never teased or laughed at him; they became fast friends. As they grew older, they joined their songs, and the trees and the flowers and all the animals would gather round to listen. Never before had all of nature been so resplendent as it was when the Prince and the boy sang together._

 _When they were grown, they realized theirs had been a song of love and devotion. And they rejoiced, for their love was a true love, and could not be broken. At first the townspeople disapproved. A marriage between the Prince and a poor common boy--”_

“Two boys can’t get married,” Jessica Shaw announces.

“Uh huh, yes they can,” Alex Lopez interrupts. “I know cause my Uncle Paulie has a husband, and they’re both boys.”

“Well maybe, but you can’t have a fairy tale about two boys, everybody knows that.”

“My mommies gave me a book of fairy tales that has two boys, and sometimes two girls.” Little Larissa Kim stands up to say.

“Sometimes,” Kris says so they all hear. “The old fairy tale books left out some stories, because people weren’t ready to hear stories like this yet. But you know two boys can fall in love, and two girls can fall in love, and as long as there’s magic and an evil villain involved, it’s still a fairy tale right?”

The children all nod in agreement, because that makes sense.

 _”So the townspeople came to accept the Prince’s choice, and they came to care for the common boy he loved so well. And the woods and animals celebrated the union joyously. All was right with the world, and everyone in the village was happy and prosperous._

 _Except for one man. Ryan of the Seacrest’s. Little did anyone know he was a Sorcerer, come to town to spread his evil works. All of the Seacrests wore a crest of the sea, to show they controlled the element of water through their dark forces. But water, in all its wild beauty, is not easily controlled, and it does not take kindly to attempts to tame its nature._

 _Still, Seacrest’s powers were strong, and his evil ways were ancient. Once he had control of the water, he hunted his next victim, seeking again that which was beautiful and wild: the valiant Prince. He warned the young Caretaker of the Woods that he would have the Prince. But the Caretaker of the Woods was not afraid. He knew that he and the Prince were destined, their souls bound for eternity. No one and nothing could change that._

 _But Seacrest would not be stopped. He demanded the Prince be his, but the Prince just laughed at the idea. Seacrest was used to having his way, his good looks and money meant he had never been denied before. But the Prince was not impressed, and mocked him, calling him ‘a leather changepurse --left out too long in the sun.’ Seacrest was furious!_

 _‘You will be mine!’ he shouted after the Prince, calling upon the dark arts and his ancestors powers’._

 _But after many attempts, he realized that he could not break the bond between the Prince and his True Love. And so he formed a new plan, a punishment for keeping from him that which he wanted for himself._

 _He followed them one night, the Prince and the Caretaker of the Woods, walking steps behind and cursing bitterly to himself, disgusted by their love. The young men were skating, in the middle of a frozen pond, gliding over the ice in the dance of lovers, under the happy watchful eyes of the forest._

 _‘Finally,’ Seacrest thought. ‘I have them where I want them.’_

 _He wielded his power over the element of water, and suddenly the ice beneath the lovers feet began to crack. The Prince fell through, falling and falling into the depths of the water beneath. The Caretaker of the Woods could not reach him, and the ice closed quickly under his reaching hands. He was left all alone._

Kris pauses when the children gasp.

 _The Prince emerged on the dry land next to Seacrest. He was wet, and dazed. He was not blind, yet he could not see. Though his lover cried out to him, he could not hear. His mind was broken._

 _The Caretaker of the Woods tried to reach out to him, but found he was trapped on the ice, an invisible wall keeping him chained within._

 _‘He’ll never love you,’ the Caretaker of the Woods cried. ‘He is mine, he will always be mine.’_

 _‘Yes,’ Seacrest smiled. ‘More’s the pity you will never lay eyes on him again.’_

 _The Caretaker of the Woods stared at him in horror._

 _‘This is your home now,’ Seacrest snarled. ‘Forevermore.’_

 _And Seacrest gathered up the little pond and the trees and the leaves just beyond, and locked them away in a glass prison. He wielded the power of water once more, adding it to the tiny world he had created, so the cries of the Prince’s true love would be swallowed up whole, and the tears he shed would only add to his own confinement._

 _But the element of Earth was watching. It loved the Caretaker of the Woods, and ached for the song he had sang with the Prince, the song that made the flowers bloom and the trees grow tall and strong._

 _The Earth was angry, and the Water was waiting. It wanted to be free. Together they worked, until the water burst forth from the Seacrest’s grip, and rained down upon the town for all the days of the Moon. Twenty eight days of rain._

 _The dazed Prince did not understand. He was sad, but he could not remember why. He remembered nothing of his True Love, just a glimmer of an echo of something that had once mattered. But each day, he stood out in the rain and wept._

 _Air and Fire joined with Water and Earth, and together they gave the now tiny Caretaker of the Woods, forever encased in a never-ending winter, whatever magic they could spare. They allowed him this reprieve: once in a lifetime, on the 28th year of his True Loves life, for the same 28 days the heavens had opened and rained down upon the earth, the Caretaker would get this chance. The chance to find his Prince, and help him remember their love. If he succeeds, the evil curse will be broken and he and the Prince will be free._

 _And so, this is how the Caretaker of the Woods lives out his days and nights; a simple man, given a great gift, he tries to do a great thing with it. But because he is a simple man, and because he is used to a world so small, sometimes he fails. But he comes back, each time, to try again, searching for his Prince, to help him remember…_

The children have been quiet for far too long. Kris, caught up in his own story, hadn’t noticed. But when he finishes, he half expects to find them asleep. Instead they are staring with spellbound. Finally, someone speaks.

“But…but what about the happy ever after?” Lacey Jackson asks, eyes wide.

“Do all fairy tales have that?” Kris frowns.

“Of course they do,” Alex says. “Don’t you know anything about fairy tales Mister Kris?”

“I know, I know!” Janet Michaels stands up. She’s the smallest girl in the group, but also the loudest. “The Carebearer in the Wood finds the Prince in Florida--”

“In Florida?” Kris asks, amused.

“Yes,” she gives him an angry look for interrupting. “My grandma lives there. That’s where Disneyworld is. That’s where he finds him.” She turns back to the class. “And they ride the teacups, that’s my favorite ride, and then he remembers all the stuff and then they are happy and they go eat cookies. And they live happily ever after.”

The children cheer.

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Kris says. He leans down to high-five Janet, and then of course everyone wants to high-five everyone else, which would be adorable, except misplaced hands accidentally land on tiny heads and shoulders, and it’s a bit of chaos. It takes Kris a few minutes to get it sorted out, and when he finally does, he sees Adam standing in the doorway, watching with a smile on his face.

“Okay, it’s outside time with Miss Leah!” He ushers the children off to the next room.

He’s about to greet Adam when Patrick McIntyre tugs on his sweater. He’s a shy boy, with a bright orange mop of hair that almost covers his blue eyes. Miss Betty had warned Kris that the other kids sometimes tease him about his freckles.

“What’s the matter buddy?” Kris leans down to his level. Patrick whispers his embarrassment in Kris’s ear.

“That happens to everybody,” Kris whispers back a moment later. “It used to happen to me too. I won’t tell anyone, promise. Why don’t we go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up though.”

Patrick clings to his leg, terrified, and Kris realizes he doesn’t want anyone to see, so he picks him up, holding him to his chest.

“Just a sec, okay?” He asks as he passes Adam. Adam just nods, wide-eyed.

He manages to get Patricks’s pants cleaned, but that leaves a telltale wet spot in front. There’s no time to let it dry, so Kris takes off his sweater and pulls it down over Patrick’s head. The sweater comes down well below Patrick’s knees.

“See, no one can see your pants now.” He says with a smile.. “And if anyone asks, you can tell them Mister Kris wanted you to have it cause the blue goes so well with your eyes.”

Patrick smiles, and runs off to play.

Kris finds Adam still in the doorway, being sized up by a tiny child. It’s not someone from Kris’s group, so he doesn’t know her name.

“You’re not taller than my Uncle Jack,” she accuses.

“Oh yeah?” Adam responds, peering down at her. She has to tilt her head back all the way to see his face. “And how do you know?”

“Cause I asked him, is how I know.”

“Well how tall is he then?”

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. Adam smiles smugly. “But he told me! And it was taller than you. I just forgot.”

“Well, alright,” Adam kneels down to her level. “I guess you win the bet then.”

He takes a piece of chocolate out of his pocket and hands it to her. Little hands grab for it, and she runs away shrieking with laughter.

“Are you gambling with children?” Kris asks, coming up from behind him. “That’s got to be illegal in at least three ways.”

Adam laughs and greets him. “So you’re still alive! After a morning with the pre-schoolers. I am impressed, Mister Kris.”

Patrick zooms by the doorway on his way outside to join the rest of the group, Kris’s blue sweater peeking out from under his coat. “Thanks Mister Kris!”

Adam tilts his head to the side and looks at Kris questioningly, taking in his threadbare white tee.

“Not that I mind the effect, but I don’t think you have to give them your clothes to get them to like you.”

“He had a little accident,” Kris whispers.

“Ah,” Adam responds. “You know, you’re a pretty great human being, Kris Allen.”

Kris just laughs in return. “You’d have to be kind of awful to be mean to a little kid.”

Adam shakes his head and pulls Kris towards the door. “I’m starving, and even though I know our lunch is probably gonna suck, since I made it, I’m really ready to eat.”

“What about Ali?” Kris asks when they step out into the cold air.

“She ditched us. Apparently babies make her cranky and she needs to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed listening to Radiohead to be ‘centered’ again.”

They eat lunch in the backroom at the music store. Adam has to drag Kris away from the strings section, promising to let him look all he wants later if they can just eat, and now, pretty please.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been to Mohonk yet,” Adam exclaims, shoving Kris lightly for emphasis. “You’ve been here way too long not to go up there.”

“I’ve only been here a few weeks,” Kris argues. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful though.”

“It’s incredible. The climb is fantastic, and when you get to the top…that view. Well, that settles it.” Adam says decisively. “I’ll just have to take you myself.”

Kris grins at him in return.

“It’ll be great, we’ll hike up to the top, maybe have a picnic up there, and hike back down. This weekend sometime?”

“Well I checked my schedule and it looks like I’m free,” Kris jokes. “So yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

“Good,” Adam says with a nod. “It’s a date.”

Kris looks down at the bits of crust left over from his sandwich, trying to hide the ear to ear smile on his face. But when he looks back up, Adam is beaming at him.

“So, wanna go look at the violins now?”

****************************

“I still can’t believe the first time I get to take you shopping and it’s to Sal’s Sporting Goods.” Adam says, armed with ten fleece jackets and an insanely adorable pout.

Kris looks up from the boots he’s lacing. “I can’t believe taking me shopping was on the list of things you’d want to do.”

“Clothes are a passion,” Adam grins. “And you’re like…a blank slate. I mean that in a good way!”

“Thanks,” Kris says sarcastically. “Anyway, you’re not allowed to complain. This was your idea. I told you I’d be fine with my pea coat and sneakers.”

“Converse are not made for hiking,” Adam admonishes. “Especially in the winter. You probably weigh, like, a pound, but I’m still not giving any piggy back rides halfway up.”

“Funny,” Kris gives him a look. “Well, these are good. They’re comfy. They’re warm. And whatever coat you want, I’ll get. I just want to get a move on.”

Adam wrangles him into a sporty gray down jacket, with fleece on the inside. He turns Kris around so they can both appraise the look in a nearby mirror.

Kris watches Adam’s reflection, looking down when Adam catches him. “So, this one’s good, I think? It’s soft on the inside, that’s nice.”

Adam glances at the price tag. “Shit, it’s…not cheap.”

Kris shrugs, and asks the salesman if he can wear the boots and coat out, before heading to the cash register to pay.

“Excited?” Adam smiles.

“You’ve done a good job building it up,” Kris laughs, letting Adam pull him out of the store. “If it’s half as gorgeous as you say I’ll be impressed.”

“Oh,” Adam says, linking Kris’s arm through his. “Once we get to the top, you will be. Trust me.”

It doesn’t take getting to the top of the mountain for Kris to be impressed. It’s the perfect day for hiking, the sun shining warm enough to thaw the ice left on the ground, but cold enough that they’re not sweating in their clothes as they make their way through the winding trails. And the wind is nothing more than a slightly blowing breeze, bringing with it the smell of clean, fresh snow and grass. It’s closer to country air than Kris has experienced in a long time.

Adam’s hiked the trails before, and he’s the perfect tour guide, pointing out different reserves, and telling Kris the history of the Mountain House hotel that resides at the top. They talk the whole way up, about Adam’s childhood and his family, the kind of music he wants to make, how he and Allison met. It’s natural and easy, and somehow Kris manages to share just enough of his own life, his real life, without it coming out stilted and peculiar.

“And this is just a tiny portion of it,” Adam says, a little out of breath. “They close most of the trails in the winter, but we lucked out with the weather, it’s too warm for the slopes to be open.”

A few short steps later, and he’s pulling Kris up beside him, looking at him expectantly, excited as Kris gets his first real look at the view from the top.

“Oh,” Kris breathes. “It’s…unreal. It’s like the whole world laid out…it’s so beautiful.”

“I know,” Adam agrees, and Kris can hear the smile in his voice. When he turns his head, he realizes Adam is looking at him, and not the view.

Adam looks away with a shake of his head, and points towards the left. “That’s the Mountain House. It’s supposed to be amazing inside, but crazy expensive. Looks like a castle doesn’t it?”

Kris just nods, taking it all in.

“I guess it’s too warm for the rink to be open,” Adam continues with a frown. “I was really hoping we could go skating.”

Kris feels a shiver run down his spine. “That’s okay, this is so nice. Really, we don’t need to do anything else for this to be the perfect day.”

“Yeah,” Adam says, still distracted. “I just…really wanted to. I don’t know why. I just thought…I really wanted to.” He turns back to Kris and smiles. “Sorry, it’s a stupid thing to get upset over. But, maybe another time?”

“Sure,” Kris grins. “Food now?”

There aren’t any picnic tables around, so they lay out the flannel blanket Kris packed into his backpack. The food isn’t anything fancy, a couple of turkey sandwiches and homemade potato salad. Kris has found he has a bit of a knack for cooking, especially with the aid of modern appliances. He snuck a bottle of white wine in at the last minute, and a couple of plastic mugs, and Adam grins wide when he sees them.

After they eat, they sit for a few moments in silence, taking in the view and feeling the happy warmth of the wine and the sun spread over them. Kris is sitting cross-legged on the blanket, leaning back on his palms, his face turned towards the sky.

“So, Allison mentioned,” Adam says carefully. “You know, about your family.”

Kris doesn’t turn to look at him, but he sits up straight and examines his own hands.

“It was a long time ago,” he says quietly, plucking a weed from the small expanse of grass peeking out from the edge of the blanket.

“I just wanted to tell you I was…I’m sorry that happened.” Kris can feel Adam’s eyes on him. “I can’t even imagine.”

Kris shrugs, trying hard not to think of his family, tiny flashes of memories creeping in despite his best efforts. _His mother baking bread in the kitchen, the sweet smell filling up the whole house; his father reading the Bible at night by the light of a candle._ In that first lifetime when he’d come back, the first one that wasn’t his own, he’d gone back to Arkansas, to find their graves, to make himself believe they were really gone. Wasted time, he thinks now. By then, they had already been dead for decades.

“It was a long time ago,” he repeats. “And they’re in a better place. That’s what people always say anyway.”

Adam nods. “Yeah. People do always say that. I hope it’s true.”

“It’s true,” Kris says firmly, pulling his knees towards his chest and resting his chin on them. “I know it.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam falters. “I didn’t mean…I mean of course they are. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know you didn’t,” Kris smiles softly. “I just really… I think I people do go on to a better place. When they’re ready.”

“Ready?” Adam asks, giving him a questioning look.

“Yeah,” Kris looks out over the vastness beneath them. From this high up, he feels so tiny, and the world seems so massive. He resists the sudden overwhelming urge to stand close to the edge, to feel the gravity of the earth. He feels like he’s just one more human, small, insignificant. It’s oddly comforting. “If they’re ready to move on, to a better place.”

“What if they’re not ready?” Adam asks. He’s sitting closer now, close enough that their knees are touching.

“The ones that aren’t ready…” Kris’s voice is thick. “They still have something left to be done. And they can’t move on until it is.”

“Like…Purgatory?” Adam asks. “That’s sad.”

Kris turns away, resting his head on his knees and looking out at the tops of smaller nearby cliffs. _Shouldn’t be talking about this,_ he thinks. _Should stop it right now._ But he wants to hear it so badly, to hear that somewhere, deep down, Adam knows…

“Or maybe it’s like reincarnation,” Adam ponders. “I think the Buddhists believe that. That souls come back, time and time again, to complete their unfinished business.”

“Maybe,” Kris says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“It’s so amazing, when you think about it. Just the idea of souls. You know? It’s incredible. There’s this Bible story, that…when God made the Earth…or maybe when he made man? Something like that. Anyway he created all the souls on Earth at the same time, up on a mountain. And at that time he decided who would be soulmates, pairing them up for eternity. And they’re split apart, when they’re born, but part of the goal of life is trying to find that person, your other half, the person who was made on that mountain with you. And that person is out there, trying to find you.”

Kris turns to look at him, lips parted, amazed.

“There’s a word for it, I can’t remember.” Adam laughs. “I can’t believe I even remember that much. My mom’ll be happy to know something from Sunday school at Temple stuck. But I just thought it was cool, you know? Religion, to me anyway, it always seemed about rules and limits, without explanation. But that story is…it’s just…”

“Romantic,” Kris supplies in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Adam smiles at him. “Exactly. It’s just really cool. But it’s like…it must be so _hard_. There’s a billion people in this world, where do you even start? And then, how do you know if you’ve got the right one? I guess that’s why the Jews were always cool with divorce,” he laughs again. “Gotta figure, odds are someone will fuck it up a few times on the way to finding the right one.”

Kris smiles, ignoring the frantic beating of his heart.

“Sorry,” Adam gives him a confused smile. “I have no idea what made me even bring that up.”

“Probably this,” Kris motions towards the expanse of land, the stretch of bare trees and peeks of grass over mountaintops, the vast beauty all around them. “It makes you think about things like that. But I liked it. I liked what you said.”

“Thanks,” Adam says, shyly, looking down. They sit for a few moments in silence, before Adam speaks again. “So, pretty good day, all in all.”

“Yeah,” Kris agrees, his voice soft with contentment. “Not bad at all.”

****************************

 

 _Eight days._ Kris’s internal clock reminds him with a jolt. Every day he wakes up to the same panicked thought. So easy to forget that this he’s living on borrowed time, and it’s just about to run out.

He runs out of his room, still half-asleep, down to Adam’s, where the door is open but the room empty, the bed made. He takes a moment to calm himself, and tries to think, think. It’s too early for Adam to be at work, unless he just didn’t come home last night. Kris banishes that thought from his mind quickly. No need to panic just yet.

He showers and changes, trying to shake off a sense of dread that’s building in him. By the time he goes downstairs for breakfast, Allison is awake and peering at him over a cup of coffee.

“Mornin,” he mumbles, lost in thought.

“Too early to be alive,” Allison grumbles back at him. “Why did I register for a 9 am class? I’m dropping out anyway, I should just stop going.”

“Isn’t David in that class?” Kris asks, distracted.

“Oh yeah,” she smiles, then frowns a moment later. “Why is he such a morning person? It’s unfair.”

“Hey, is Adam working today?” Kris ask, trying for casual and failing. If Allison notices, she doesn’t comment on the worry in his voice.

“Hmm nope, he had that audition. In New York?” She adds when Kris gives her a confused look. “Guess he forgot to mention it to you. Anyway he took the earliest bus down, cheaper than paying gas and tolls.”

“Oh, right,” Kris says, but the wounded look on his face gives him away.

“He can be kind of superstitious about this stuff,” Allison says, handing him a glass of orange juice. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Of course,” Kris smiles up at her. “Thanks.”

He tries not to let it bother him, that Adam kept this from him. Maybe it’s not an important audition, maybe Adam just forgot. But after Allison leaves, his mind keeps coming back to it, wondering.

Instead of sitting idly alone in the house waiting for Adam to get home, he starts baking. It’s an old recipe, one of his mom’s favorites, chocolate chip pecan cookies, made the old fashioned way. He hums a little tune while he mixes the egg and sugar in a bowl. His mother always said love was the most important ingredient, which sounded ridiculous at the time, but Kris understands the meaning now. Putting your love into something changes everything.

When Adam gets back, it’s mid-afternoon and Kris is on his second batch. Trying to recreate a recipe from centuries ago, when he’s not sure he ever completely knew it, proves more difficult than he first thought.

Adam stumbles into the kitchen, looking forlorn. “What’s that amazing smell?” he asks.

Kris smiles. “They’re almost ready. Another ten minutes maybe?”

“I shouldn’t have any,” Adam sighs. “I need to stay thin, so maybe someone will hire me someday.”

Kris frowns. “Did it not…”

“It was terrible,” Adam says quietly. “They said my voice was ‘outstanding’ but didn’t like my theatrics. Said it distracted from the ‘emotional necessity’ of the part. So not looking too good.”

“That’s crazy,” Kris says, shaking his head. “I’ve seen you perform. You’re completely raw when you’re singing. You give everything away.”

Adam sits down with a heavy sigh. “I didn’t though. That’s the worst part. I know they’re right. I was just…it’s so hard to do that all the time. How do you do that all the time? It’s exhausting and…kinda scary. It’s so much easier to camp it up, that’s what people think when they first see me anyway right?”

Kris sits down in the chair opposite him. “Maybe it’s okay though. To let people see what you’re really like. Who you really are.”

“I don’t think I know who that is,” Adam laughs bitterly. “I’m going to be 29 in just a couple of weeks, and I still don’t have that figured out.”

“It was just one audition,” Kris reminds him gently. “And you never know. Maybe it’ll turn out better than you think.”

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Adam says. When Kris looks at him expectantly, he continues. “For not telling you before. I just…thought for some reason that if it didn’t go well, it would suck more if you had known, and had gotten excited for me. And I knew you would. That sounds shitty. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kris says with a frown. “I don’t want to make you feel…bad about things, if I do--”

“You don’t!” Adam cuts him off quickly. “It’s me. I’m…you’re just. You’re always saying such amazingly encouraging things. It’s sweet, and great, and everything a friend should be. It’s stupid, I just didn’t want to be…diminished in your eyes. I guess. It doesn’t make much sense now that I say it out loud.”

“Well, you’re not,” Kris says with a tight smile. “If it matters, at all. I get how it works. I don’t think any less of your talent, if some idiot producer doesn’t recognize it. And anyone who doesn’t will regret it someday. Trust me.”

“You should be like a motivational speaker,” Adam leans back with a smile. “Seriously, it’s fine, even if I don’t get it. It’s just a really really good part. Broadway you know? But I’m playing Sam’s again Saturday, maybe there will be some ingenious record producer in the audience who will offer me a contract on the spot.”

Kris smiles, a little uncertainly.

“I swear, I’m totally okay. I just need to mope a little. Are those cookies ready yet?” Adam asks hopefully.

Kris jumps up to check on the batch, and then carefully places them on a plate.

“They’re hot, so it’s probably better to wait a--” Before he can finish his sentence Adam’s got half a cookie in his mouth, and a second later is using his hand as a fan to cool his burned tongue.

“Oh my God, totally worth it,” he says digging into another. “Please take these away, I can’t eat another one.”

But he pulls the plate closer to his chest, protectively. Kris just laughs.

“You’re too skinny anyway.”

“There is no such thing,” Adam says over a happy moan. “Kris these are seriously amazing. You should sell them. If you use organic eggs and shit I bet they’d sell them over at Bistro.”

Kris just shrugs, smiling. “I’m glad you like em.”

“Can I ask you something?” Adam asks, and something in his voice makes Kris apprehensive.

“Sure,” he says nervously.

“Where you were from…were you like, Amish?”

“Amish?” Kris laughs, relieved. “No, we weren’t Amish. What made you even--”

“I’m sorry, it’s so stupid. It’s just, most people would have used an electric mixer instead of doing it by hand and—“

“It’s better by hand,” Kris says, defensively, wondering what an electric mixer is exactly. “Authentic.”

“And you’re just always so polite, which is great! But you like, stand up whenever Allison comes into the room, and you hold out her chair for her—don’t be offended, please don’t be. It’s super sweet. It’s just…unusual.”

Kris looks down, not sure what to say.

“I like unusual though,” Adam says softly. “I mean, I’m unusual too.”

“So unusual is another word for freak then?” Kris asks looking up, a smile in his eyes.

“Totally,” Adam says, grinning. He grabs another cookie and takes a big bite. “Okay, last one, seriously. I can’t eat anymore.”

“And why not?”

“Cause I won’t be able to fit into my pants!”

“We can buy you new pants,” Kris says practically.

“Because no boys will want to date me then!” Adam laughs.

Kris jumps up, quickly and heads to the counter, pulling out the just cleaned mixing bowl and whisk.

“What are you doing?” Adam asks, suspicious.

“Making another batch,” Kris says happily, giving Adam his most innocent face.

****************************

The best of Kris’s dreams are flashes of a life he once led, brief glimpses into a time of happiness and simplicity. Upon waking he struggles hard to hold onto those, struggles to keep that feeling of calm ease long after the memories themselves have subsided.

In a cruel twist of fate, the only dream he can ever truly remember is the same one over and over. Dancing on the ice with Adam, their last moments together before he was ripped away. The ice cracking beneath their feet and Adam falling, falling, blue eyes looking up at him terrified…

He always wakes up from that dream with a start, body rigid and tense. The nightmare of a memory stays with him, hard to shake throughout the day.

****************************

 

Adam takes off work the next day. He doesn’t tell him, but Kris knows it’s so he can be available, whenever he gets the call letting him know if he got the part. And maybe so he’s alone, just in case it’s bad news. He tries to keep out of Adam’s way, but spends the rest of the day thinking about him and worrying over it.

Adam had finally gotten Billy to let Kris fill in some shifts down at the music store, and Kris had readily agreed as it meant a chance to spend more time with Adam. Kris loved being around instruments and music all day, but the best part is the occasional moment where he’d be with a customer, completely lost in helping them tune a new guitar or decide between a clarinet and a flute, and he’d look up to find Adam watching, a smile in his eyes.

Today he’s alone in the store with Mark DeSantos, a high school kid who spends every other minute he’s not working texting his girlfriend on his phone. It hits him, hard, how much he misses Adam after not even a full day, just a few hours apart. It’s not the first time he’s had the thought.

Adam’s not there when Kris arrives home that night, and he doesn’t show up after dinner either.

The house is silent, Allison already asleep, and Kris tries not to burn a hole in their living room carpet with his pacing. In his time there, Adam hasn’t been gone for more than a few hours at a time. Kris doesn’t know how to react to the idea of him being gone for a full night. He contemplates the possibilities, car crashes, unexpected brain hemorrhages, robberies at knifepoint. Too many unlikely but all too possible scenarios.

He finally settles down on their couch, guitar in his lap. It’s soothing, just playing some chords and feeling the vibrations against his chest. Adam finds him like that, hours later, his body slumped slightly over the guitar clutched tight against him, fast asleep. He smiles at the sight, pulling the guitar gently from Kris’s hands, and sitting down next to him as he toes off his boots. Kris instinctively curls up closer, his head falling on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’re back,” Kris mumbles, eyes still closed and half-asleep. “I was so worried.”

“I’m back,” Adam sighs.

“Y’all right?” Kris asks, his voice more Arkansas that he means it to be. His accent is always thicker when he’s sleepy.

“I love how your twang comes out at night,” Adam grins. Kris shakes his head imperceptibly, fighting against his drowsiness. “Why were you worried?”

“Didn’t know where you were,” Kris says, as if that explains it all. He’s a little more awake now.

Adam laughs, confused, but reaches out to gently brush the hair off Kris’s forehead. Kris can smell the alcohol on his breath from this close. “I’m glad you’re playing more. Ali hardly bothers lately.”

“She doesn’t need to, with that voice,” Kris rubs at his eyes. “The two of you, it’s crazy. I’m glad I’m not trying to make a career out of this, it’d be real easy to feel inadequate living here.” He says it good naturedly, not a trace of hidden meaning, but Adam looks at him, serious.

“You shouldn’t,” Adam’s voice is low, sincere. “Ever. Your voice is beautiful, seamless. Every time you sing, I feel whatever you’re feeling. People with the greatest range can’t imitate that.”

“Wow,” Kris responds, eyes open wide now, facing Adam. “I wasn’t fishin for a pep talk, but…thanks.”

“I didn’t get the part,” Adam sighs. He laughs a little, his words slurred.

“I’m sorry,” Kris says sincerely. “I know it doesn’t help to hear this, not right now, but it will happen for you someday. You’re too amazing for it not to.”

Adam turns to stare at him for a moment, the air suddenly thick with a palpable tension. It takes Kris a moment to understand what’s happening, that this is real, but before he can think straight, Adam is closing the distance between them.

It’s a long, slow, kiss, not like the little pecks of friendship and affection they’ve shared before, or the few awkward times Kris couldn’t control himself. It’s languid, almost lazy, like they have all the time in the world, exploring each other’s mouths and necks with lips and tongues, as Adam’s fingers roam gently over Kris’s face, his thumb tracing the delicate outline of his jaw. Adam tastes like tequila and mint, and Kris thinks hazily that the rest of his life, no matter how many more lifetimes that entails, he’ll never forget that taste.

Kris doesn’t even notice the shift in gravity, but somehow they end up on the floor, Adam pushing the coffee table out of the way so they have more room. He balances on his elbows, hands still on Kris’s face, in his hair, and Kris’s hands are roaming everywhere, pushing up to move their bodies closer together, eliciting a groan from Adam that vibrates against his mouth.

 _It’s okay._ Kris tries to calm his panicked mind. _It’s more than lust this time. It has to be more._

He ignores the part of his mind that tells him to slow down, and make sure this is right, pushing his hands up under Adam’s shirt, and reaching down between them for his zipper. Adam is kissing him like he’s the answer to every unasked question, pushing down hard against his hand, holding his head gently, a crazy contradiction of intense abandonment and a careful reverence. It’s everything Kris remembers them to be.

And then suddenly he stops, pushing up and off of Kris, nearly knocking his head into the coffee table in his haste. A moment later, Kris sees why.

A tall, thin man with long stringy hair and round glasses is standing in their living room, staring at them, a look of…disappointment, or maybe that’s anger, on his face. Kris blinks up at him, confused, as Adam scrambles to his knees, sitting back on the couch.

“Hey Tre,” Adam says finally, breaking the awkward silence.

Right. Tre. The mysterious roommate Kris was convinced didn’t exist.

Tre doesn’t move, just stands there staring Adam down for a few minutes, while Adam looks into his hands. He looks ashamed, Kris realizes. It makes his stomach churn.

Without a word, Tre leaves the room, heading for the stairs. A moment later, they hear his door close, and Adam lets out a sigh of relief.

“So that’s Tre?” Kris asks.

“That’s Tre,” Adam responds with a little laugh. “Shit, Kris, I’m really sorry--”

“Don’t,” Kris cuts him off. _I don’t think I can handle it if you apologize for this, if you regret it._ He smiles to soften the tense sound of his voice.

“It’s just…we’re roommates, you know?” Adam asks.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep,” Kris says, not wanting to continue this line of thought. Baby steps. There’s still time, after all. _Eight more days._ It feels like a lifetime, considering how far they’ve come. “You must be exhausted.”

“I really am,” Adam mutters, and Kris notices how bloodshot his eyes are.

“C’mon,” Kris says, standing up and pulling Adam up with an exaggerated grunt. Adam smiles, and let’s Kris lead him upstairs to his room.

They stand outside Adam’s closed door for a moment, but when Adam turns around to speak, Kris shakes his head, standing on tiptoes to kiss Adam on the cheek.

“Gnight,” he whispers, before quickly making his way up the second flight of stairs to his own room.

 _It’s a start,_ he thinks, as he lays down in bed, reliving those frantic, passionate kisses. He presses his fingers to his lips, and hopes that if he dreams tonight, he dreams of this.

 

****************************

Kris wakes up late again, his schedule thrown off by the late night. Adam didn’t actually make it home until 3am, and Kris had lain awake in bed for a while after that. He makes his way down to the kitchen quickly, suddenly starving. He’d barely eaten the day before, too distracted and worried to think about food.

One of the most amazing joys of modern life, Kris has found, is breakfast cereal. Frosted Flakes are his favorite, and he really thinks he could live off the stuff. He’s got a giant bowl full, milk poured and spoon ready, when he hears footsteps behind him. Adam is long gone to work, and Allison is at class.

Tre doesn’t greet him when he enters the room, just heads to the fridge and takes out one of his carefully labeled cartons of yogurt. Kris shrugs and sits down to dig into his cereal.

“It won’t work, you know,” Tre says matter of factly.

Kris smiles uncertainly, swallowing a giant mouthful of sugary flakes. “Um, I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, extending his hand. “I’m Kris.”

Tre just looks at him, pointedly.

“I’m just warning you. For your own sake.”

“Okay,” Kris says, brow furrowed in confusion but still smiling. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about though.”

Tre sighs heavily. “You. And Him. It won’t work. I’ve lived here a long time, and trust me, you are not his type.”

Kris sputters out a laugh, wiping milk from his chin.

“Oh sure,” Tre says with a wave of his hand. “You fit the physical aspects. Pretty much down to a tee. But he doesn’t do serious. He likes pretty flitty little things. Fleeting. And you…”

“And I’m what?” Kris asks, a little angry now.

“You’re not the fling type,” Tre says, almost kindly. “You’re the marrying type. And Adam…is not.”

“This is ridiculous,” Kris says, turning his attention back to his food. “You don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know Adam. And I’m fairly intuitive. I’m a _healer_ after all,” he says without a hint of irony, and Kris has to bite back a laugh.

“Why do you even care?” Kris asks incredulous.

“I like you, Kris,” Tre says sincerely as Kris looks up in surprise. “You never eat my food. And believe me, I’ve checked. Our last roommate used to leave _empty egg shells_ in the carton. My clearly marked carton! I don’t want to go back to that. Plus, you’re clean and you don’t play loud music while I’m sleeping. And you seem like a nice enough guy. Just figured I’d warn you. Adam’s just…he is what he is. Twenty-eight years of conditioning, and this is who he is. People don’t change.”

“Well, thanks for the advice,” Kris says bitterly, as he pours he rest of his cereal down the drain, his appetite suddenly gone.

It takes a little while, but he manages to shake off Tre’s words. Whatever Adam’s been or done in this lifetime, it’s all been circumstance. Kris knows who he truly is. He shouldn’t expect someone like Tre to see that, to understand what’s underneath. It’s enough that Kris knows.

****************************

But Kris should have known better.

Never let your guard down. It was one of the first things Kris learned, the hard way. He picked it up somewhere on the road to here, along with a shaky cynicism and an ability to lie, straight faced. He knows how to look innocent when he’s guilty as sin, and how to make his face blank when he’s terrified or heartbroken. He knows the rules of this game, back and forth, and he’s paid the price for breaking them once. Once was enough.

But the most important rule, the unofficial, the unspoken: never let your guard down. Of course, those rules shouldn’t matter now, _couldn’t_ matter now. He’s got Adam. It’s all going according to plan.

He berates himself later. If he hadn’t forgotten, if he’d listened to what he had learned from experience, instead of his stupid, forgetful, simple heart, he wouldn’t have been so blindsided. He would have had a backup plan.

Everything was going fine. Adam retreated a bit, it’s true. Maybe he was scared, a part of himself that had been dormant was suddenly awakening. Maybe he couldn’t understand what it was he was feeling. It’s a heady thing, to realize your soul mate has found you. That’s what Kris told himself, in the last week of this lifetime. Less than seven days left, and Adam pulls back.

To keep from going insane, he had to believe he’d come around again. That fate would take care of the rest. He should have remembered that fate abandoned him long ago.

Really, he should have known better.

Adam doesn’t mention his Saturday night show at Sam’s again, but Kris is dying to go, and at the last minute he asks Allison if she wants to try out her new fake ID. Ali’s never one to say no to a night out, especially when Kris offers to pay.

She flirts a little with the bouncer at the door when he eyes her ID suspiciously. By the time they get settled at a small table in the back of the room, Adam’s set has already begun.

It never changes for Kris, the way he reacts to Adam singing, no matter the lifetime, no matter the song. The rest of the world fades to blurry white noise, and Adam, His Adam, becomes everything.

Adam is even more mesmerizing tonight. He’s perched on a stool, pouring his heart out onto the stage, lost in the song, looking at the audience with happy wonder when it’s over, as if surprised by their unconditional acceptance.

When the set is done, after the applause dies down, he spots Allison, her bright red hair like a beacon. He waves to them, but doesn’t join them. Kris wants to go over to him, to tell him how amazing the show was, but before he’s even out of his seat, he spots Adam talking closely with someone. He’s sitting on the edge of the now empty stage, and the guy is sort of standing between his legs. Kris’s eyes narrow, taking in the scene. It’s gotten louder in the bar, with the normal background music playing and the patrons speaking freely, but it’s hardly loud enough to have to speak _that_ closely, practically right into each other’s ears.

“Who is that?” he asks Allison, not bothering to hide his frown.

Ali turns around to get a closer look, then turns back to her gin and tonic. “Drake,” she says a little drunkenly, the straw between her lips. “Easy now, killer, they’re just friends. Though they used to hook up. But it was never serious. Just lots of sex.”

That doesn’t exactly set Kris’s mind at ease. He sits anxiously, drumming his fingers on the table and trying not to stare. After ten minutes, Adam and the guy, Drake, go backstage. Kris has to resist the urge to run after them.

“Is it okay if we head home?” He asks Allison after a moment. “I’m not feeling so great.”

“But…I’ve only had two drinks,” she pouts.

“Fine,” Kris mutters, sitting back down.

“I’m a big girl Kris, if you wanna go, you should go. Besides, Adam’s here; he’ll make sure I get home.”

Adam was right about Kris and his old fashioned manners. Leaving the young girl he came with, who shouldn’t be drinking anyway, breaks every rule of etiquette. But more than that, Allison has become like a little sister to him. He can’t just leave her, especially if she’s even a little tipsy.

Except he knows Adam wouldn’t either. Adam and Allison are eerily close, like a real family. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if he shouldn’t check in with Adam, make sure he’ll get Ali home safe. But the thought of walking in on…something, anything with him and Drake kills that idea quickly.

He’s too wired to go to sleep, and contemplates getting drunk instead, just to help him pass out and forget this night. He knows things will be clearer tomorrow.

 _Four days,_ something in the back of his mind whispers. He puts on his running shoes and a sweatshirt and decides to take his aggression out on the pavement. When he gets home, much later, Allison’s door is closed but the light is on, and he can hear her talking on the phone excitedly. Adam’s door is closed too, but it’s silent in his room.

Nothing is clearer the next day. Adam’s still asleep when Kris leaves for his shift at the music store, and when he gets there he realizes with disappointment that Adam changed his schedule so they’re no longer working at the same time.

He resolves to work this out, tonight. Whatever is going on with Adam, Kris can’t sit around and wait for him to figure it out. Every hour, every minute that ticks by brings him closer to the end. And this time, he’s broken all his own rules, gotten too used to living this life, _enjoying_ this life, and he’s lost focus. It’ll only make it that much worse when he has to let it all go, has to let Adam go, when he’s so close…

Adam’s not there when he gets home. It’s long past dinner time, and Kris is starting to wonder if Adam will avoid him right up until the end. It doesn’t make any sense. They had been moving towards something, _progressing_ and His Adam was never afraid of anything, and especially not of him, of loving him.

Allison’s watching a movie in the living room, a black and white horror film, and Kris sits down to join her. She snuggles up to him, sharing her old throw blanket, pulling it up to cover her eyes during the scary parts.

Kris is drowsing a little, his eyes half-closed, when Adam finally comes home.

He’s not alone.

Adam and Drake sit together on the large armchair, close enough that Drake is half draped on Adam. Allison looks up, eyes widened in surprise, but nods and smiles at Drake who waves a little and smiles back. He tries the same with Kris, who refuses to look at him.

Kris does see, out of the corner of his eye, Drake’s hand resting on the inside of Adam’s thigh. That’s enough to get him out of his seat and walking away, jaw set in a hard, determined line. He walks quickly to the kitchen, not bothering to excuse himself first.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, without turning around, sensing Adam steps behind him.

“Doing what?” Adam asks, his voice an attempt at casual but just falling short. “That was pretty rude, you didn’t even introduce yourself to Drake.”

Kris whips around, eyes flashing. “Rude… _I_ was rude? Are you…what are you even doing?”

“I was hanging out with an old friend,” Adam shrugs. His lips are drawn into a thin tight line. “Don’t make this a bigger deal than it is Kris okay? Look I’m sorry about the other--”

“Don’t,” Kris responds angrily. “Don’t start.”

Adam purses his lips but stays silent.

“I can’t believe you don’t even see what’s going on here,” Kris laughs, half-crazed.

“What?” Adam asks finally, his voice hard, cold. “What am I not seeing?”

 _That it’s me you’re looking for,_ Kris wants to scream. _That every man you’ve ever been with, every man you’ve ever looked at twice, it’s only because they remind you of me. That they’re just echoes of something you remember deep down, something you’ve been searching for through all your lives. That they’re all just carbon copies, diluted versions of the original. But I’m the original, the only one you’ll ever really want, and I’m right here._

But Kris can’t say any of that, can’t say anything at all, his voice and thoughts trapped in his throat. Instead he shakes his head, and pushes Adam out the way in a rush to get out of the house.

He walks around town for hours, wishing, for the first time since he arrived there, that he was in a bigger city, like New York or Los Angeles, somewhere where there would be people everywhere, and noise, and distractions instead of their quiet little hamlet. Every street that he turns down is dark, except for the white gold Christmas lights still strung up on Main Street, bordering the sidewalks with brilliant arches of shimmering light.

Their house is dark when he gets home, but he knows it well enough to fumble through in the darkness until he reaches the stairs. Adam’s door is closed, and his light is off. He tries not to let his mind wonder if he’s in there alone, and fails spectacularly.

 

****************************

 _Monday, January 17,_ his internal clock reminds him.

He has until midnight Tuesday before being banished, once again into the cold lonely world of the globe. Less than 48 hours. What had started out with such hope now feels impossible.

He drifts through the day, wandering around, unsure of what to do with the time he has left. He thinks briefly of Malcolm, wondering if he couldn’t show up to provide some guidance right about now. But Malcolm isn’t really that kind of guide. And who could give him the answers he needs now anyway?

He’s at Sam’s, sitting at the piano, a half bottle of whiskey perched nearby. He was never much of a drinker, not during his own lifetime, but every once in a while in the lives that followed, when the search became unbearable, or he was about to give up altogether, he’d indulge himself. When he did, it was always whiskey, the bitter burn helping to soothe the pain of another wasted life and the fear and panic that accompanied the brutal reality of what was to come.

That’s where Adam finds him, as though he’d been searching. Kris laughs drunkenly at the thought. Adam searching for _him_. Oh how the tables have turned.

Except Kris was impossibly easy to find, and Adam would never have to work to make him remember their love. Sometimes, he almost wishes that he could forget…

“How long were you planning on avoiding me?” Adam demands, long legs making quick work of the stretch of aisle towards the stage. He’s next to Kris in an instant.

Kris keeps playing, as though he can’t hear.

“And…you’ve been drinking?” Adam eyes the heavy glass bottle.

Kris doesn’t look up, his fingers firing over the keys rapidly, moving his head in tune with the music.

“Okay,” Adam says, his voice calmer. “I get it. You’re pissed. But can’t you be pissed in our house, instead of hiding somewhere all day? Allison was worried.”

Kris plays on, the saddest piece of music he knows, Faure’s piano quintets.

“For fucks sake,” Adam says, slamming down the lid to the piano and nearly catching Kris’s fingers in the process.

“Shit,” he says a moment later, when Kris finally looks up at him. “I’m sorry. I…just want you to talk to me. Come home, Kris. We have guitars there, can’t you take out your anger on them?”

“No,” Kris mutters. “I play the guitar when I’m happy.”

“So, what you have an instrument for every mood?” Despite himself, Adam looks amused. “What do you play when you’re sad?”

“The viola,” Kris says, looking down at his hands.

“And the piano is for when you’re…”

“Lost,” he says quietly.

“Wow. I didn’t expect you to be so dramatic, Kris,” Adam almost sounds impressed. “That’s usually my forté.”

“What do you want?” Kris asks, hands clutching at his suddenly pounding head.

“I just want you to talk to me,” Adam says softly. “I know I did this all wrong, and I’m sorry. I really am. I should have talked to you first.”

“But you didn’t,” Kris says sadly, looking up at him. Adam looks away.

“I know,” his voice is hoarse. “I just…didn’t know how to deal with this. I’m not used to this kind of thing, and I panicked.”

“What kind of thing?” Kris asks, demanding. He stands up, and walks the few feet until he and Adam are face to face. On the raised platform of the stage, he’s nearly as tall as Adam.

“You’re my friend,” Adam begins, his voice pleading. He looks so tired. “And I didn’t mean to make you think there was more to it than that--”

Kris laughs meanly, swaying a little on his feet. “So I imagined the other night? I imagined us almost sleeping together, and you showing up with a different guy days later?”

“Drake’s a friend. I’m not allowed to have friends?”

“He’s more than just a friend, stop acting like I’m making all this up. You were on a date last night. You brought him on a date to _our_ house.”

“So what!” Adam yells. “Yeah, we had a date. And we’ve got another one tomorrow night, so what? See this is what I’m talking about. You’re just so…intense. All the time. Everything means something to you.”

“I’m too _intense_?” Kris asks incredulous.

“No,” Adam shakes his head confused. “That’s not what I mean. Or I mean, it’s not just that. You’re just…you’re different. You’re not like anyone else I’ve met, and I don’t know how…things just _mean_ more to you. It’s like you’re from a different world, I don’t even know—you’re just always so mannered, and so--”

“Are you saying I’m too polite for you?” Kris laughs bitterly. “This is ridiculous.”

Adam swallows hard, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He rubs a hand absently along his throat before he speaks. “I’m not saying I didn’t do anything wrong here. I…shouldn’t have…I mean, I’m not saying I’m not attracted to you. I obviously am. I’m not going to lie, but that doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean we should be more than friends. I mean, I can do that, with other guys, but you, you’re not—“

“So Tre was right,” Kris shakes his head, disbelieving. “I can’t believe this.”

“Tre?” Adam asks confused. “What does he have to do with this?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” Kris laughs crazily.

“Look I know it’s not the easiest thing, when you first come out. And I was trying to be supportive, and friendly and you’re so easy to be around, and I _do_ like you, but you want…I don’t know what you want from me.”

“That’s not what this is,” Kris cries out. “Just say what you really mean.”

“Why are you so upset?” Adam asks, a hard edge to his voice. “See, this is exactly what I was talking about. We can hang out and have fun, and maybe things went a little too far, but it shouldn’t be this big a deal. I’m allowed to date, I’m allowed to bring guys to my own house. I’m allowed to have a life, outside of you. You, who I barely know. And you don’t really know me either.”

“I know you,” Kris spits out. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“That’s crazy,” Adam’s voice is patronizing, as though he’s speaking to a child. “We’ve only known each other a month. _Less than a month._ Do you see how crazy that is?”

“It’s not crazy,” Kris says through gritted teeth. “You’re just too afraid to see it.”

“To see what?” Adam yells. “You want me to be something to you…I don’t even know what it is. You want something more than what I can give. And every time you look at me like I’m some fucking noble saint, I feel like shit, because I’m not. I’m just not! I’m not who you want me to be, and I can’t be!”

“A second ago you asked me why I was making such a big deal out of this, why I was so upset,” Kris yells back.

“I know!”

“Well why don’t you ask yourself,” Kris chokes out. “Come on, Adam, if this means so little, if you can’t understand why I care so much, then _why are you so upset_?”

“Stop!” Adam’s shaking, and he looks near tears. He sits down on the edge of the stage, trying to catch his breath, his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what else you want me to say,” he looks up at Kris, pleadingly. “Whatever it is you’re thinking…or you want, it’s not going to work.”

“It’s not going to work Kris,” Adam repeats, like a prayer, hoping Kris will understand.

Kris stumbles backwards at his words, as if struck. He hits something hard, a chair or a table, he doesn’t bother to turn around and see. Adam half-rises, as if to help him up, but Kris is up and running, running out the door and out into the night, running until his lungs give out on him and his legs burn deep. Only then does he stop and walk, not caring where he is or where he ends up, just waiting until he can breathe deeply enough to start running again.

****************************

He stumbles home, hours later. It’s becoming a habit, but not one that can last. This is his last night here. Tomorrow night, he’ll be gone, one way or another.

He tiptoes past Adam’s room, not wanting another confrontation, the sting of their last one still burning in his chest. Before he even turns on the light, he senses Malcolm there.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” Kris laughs bitterly. “Great timing.”

“Hello Kristopher,” Malcolm is as perfectly composed as ever. “Out for a midnight jog?”

“What took you so long?” Kris asks.

“I didn’t think you’d appreciate seeing me,” Malcolm says, voice even. “Or appreciate the things I had to say.”

“He has the globe, you know,” Kris almost yells, lowering his voice immediately.

“Oh, speak freely,” Malcolm waves his hand around the room. “I’ve sealed it off, no one can hear you. They’re all sleeping soundly, did you know? No one tossing and turning, no one perturbed in this house. Except for you, of course.”

“Fuck you,” Kris bites out. “You don’t have to egg me on, I’m already there.”

“Good,” Malcolm’s eyes are intense, boring holes into Kris. “Then let’s really talk.”

“I thought it was a sign,” Kris’s voice breaks. His legs give way, and he crumbles down onto his bed. “That he had it, I thought it was a good thing. That it meant something. Cause…what are the odds?”

“All it meant is that you ended up in the same town as him,” Malcolm’s voice is softer. “Nothing more.”

Kris nods, silently. He closes his eyes, trying to fight back the tears.

“Why did you ask him to keep it?” Malcolm asks gently, kneeling next to Kris. “You made him promise.”

“I just thought…”

“You know that’s not how it works. His next life could be anywhere, any body, any family. You know the likelihood of him ending up in the same family, even in the same state are almost nonexistent.”

“I know that,” Kris whispers, his face tight with pain.

“Ah,” Malcolm says, rising. “I see. You’ve found a new way to torture yourself then, have you? You get to stay with him the rest of his life, while you’re trapped inside. Watching as he grows older, falls in love, marries even. He gets to live, and you get to watch.”

Kris shakes his head. “I just wanted…I’d get to be close to him in some way, at least.”

“Why do you do this to yourself, Kris?” Malcolm’s voice is low, sincere. “You can be free. You can move on. You have an out. You’ve _always_ had an out. Not everyone is so lucky.”

“There is no out,” Kris whispers, forcefully.

“All you have to do is let him go. You can be free. You can _both_ be free.”

“That’s what Seacrest would have wanted,” Kris says the name with disgust. “To make sure we would never be together.”

“But it wasn’t he who granted this option,” Malcolm nods when Kris gives him a look of surprise. “It was the fairies. The thought of two souls, unable to move on for so long, it was too much for them to bear.”

“Even they knew it might not be possible,” Malcolm says gently. “And you know how much they adore the old stories, of true love and soul mates. Even they realized the unlikelihood. They gave you this choice, Kristopher. All you have to do is let him go.”

Kris shakes his head again, firmly this time. “Never.”

“You’re still so sure?” Malcolm presses. “Even after tonight? Isn’t some part of you wondering if maybe this soul mate business is just…nonsense? Just a fairy tale after all? If he loved you, Kristopher, would he treat you this way?”

“He doesn’t remember,” Kris breathes out through his tears. “If he remembered—“

“Shouldn’t he remember? You’ve had as much time as you ever will, if he doesn’t remember now, why do you think he will in the future, in another life? What if there’s nothing to remember? What if—“

“Stop, please,” Kris pleads.

“I just want you to consider all your options.” Malcolm pauses, unsure if he should continue. “If not for yourself, then think of him.”

“No,” Kris rises, his hands balled into fists at his side. “He’s happy here. He’s _so_ happy. He belongs here. He’s not going to, he wouldn’t ever—“

“So just another hundred years for you, then? Waiting for him to finish off his long happy life?”

“If I have to.”

“But you _don’t_ have to.”

“There is no out!” Kris yells. “Maybe you don’t have a soul anymore, but I do, and I know where it belongs. And it’s with Adam.”

A brief look of hurt passes over Malcolm’s face, but it’s replaced with his trademark stoic calm a moment later.

“Fine. Let’s entertain the notion that you’re right,” his voice is melodic, almost soothing. “You’re soul mates, two halves of a whole, destined to seek each other for eternity. Do you know what happens to him, Kristopher? When you can’t find him? Do you know what happened in the past?”

“You told me, a motorcycle accident,” Kris responds weakly. “It doesn’t mean anything, you said so yourself—“

“I was trying to protect you,” Malcolm’s voice is raised, and he’s speaking quickly, too quickly for Kris to cut him off. “That was the life you knew of. The one you didn’t miss out on. But do you know what happened in the one you did miss? The one you were banned from, because you couldn’t resist using the little magic granted to you in trying to find him?”

Kris stands up, walking to the windows, looking for an escape. _No, no_ his mind cries.

“I don’t want to hear this,” he says, his voice breaking, wiping angrily at the tears that have escaped.

“Not even thirty, you said. Like he must have sensed it, wanted to end it quicker so he could get to you. Isn’t that what you were thinking Kris?” Malcolm’s voice is lower again, calm but almost pleading. “You were right.”

Kris leans his head against the cold glass pane, looking out onto the snow covered backyard. It had been warmer the past few days, and he can glimpse a bit of concrete and dirt beneath the frozen gray water.

They stand in silence for a few moments. Malcolm waits.

“How did he do it?” Kris asks, finally, his throat choked and burning with the tears he’s still trying to hold back.

“It was Minnesota, in the dead of winter,” Malcolm begins, his voice blank. It somehow makes the story that much more grim. “A state park reserve. He drove in, ignoring all the warning signs, and when he could drive no more, he walked, miles and miles into the woods. Even if they knew where to look, no one could have found him for hours. He had…” Malcolm pauses, shaking his head, and continues a moment later. “If he hadn’t bled to death, he would have died of hypothermia, they said.”

Kris is shaking, unable to hold back.

“This is what you’re doing to him,” Malcolm says, his voice laced with pity. “He doesn’t understand. He couldn’t understand. Even if he remembers the feelings, he’ll never remember the details. It’s just a jumble of intense emotions his brain can’t comprehend. Don’t you see? Why he’s reacting this way? That kind of knowledge, without understanding, eventually it drives him insane. It drives him to death.”

“Can you leave now?” Kris asks, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper. He can’t stop the tears rolling down his face, his breath fogging up the glass of the windowpane.

“I just want you to remember,” Malcolm says softly. “There _is_ an out. For both of you.”

For the first time in all his lives, Kris can understand what it feels like to want nothing more than to feel nothing at all, can understand the pain and desperation that would drive someone to such a tragic end. As soon as he’s sure Malcolm is gone, he sinks to the floor, pulling his knees tight to his chest, the sobs shaking his small body, until he falls asleep in the dark, silent room.

****************************

Kris wakes early the next morning, a still calmness in his mind. In less than 24 hours he’ll be seeing Malcolm again, hearing him say “Alright then, Kristopher.” The same words he always says at the end. And then he’ll have to choose, to keep coming back, to keep fighting, or to give up.

He showers and dresses, going through the motions like a zombie, waiting on the edge of his bed in silence, his mind blank, until it’s late enough that he can knock on Adam’s door.

Adam answers it looking wrecked, his eyes bloodshot. He sighs in relief when he sees Kris. Without hesitation he pulls Kris in for a hug, but Kris stands there, limp, like a rag doll.

“I didn’t know where you went,” Adam says, pulling back. “I was so scared. Shit, Kris I’m so sorry--”

“No,” Kris says calmly, a slight smile on his lips. “I came here to apologize. I shouldn’t have acted like that. You were right. Everything you said, you were right.”

Adam looks confused. “No, Kris, I was just--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kris smiles again. “I just wanted to say I was sorry, and to say...this might be one of those things that makes you think I’m weird, or embarrassing or whatever it is.”

Adam winces at Kris’s words. “I don’t think that. I don’t think that at all.”

“But I just wanted to say,” Kris continues as if Adam hadn’t spoken. “That you shouldn’t give up on yourself. On your dreams. Not ever. You’re going to live a long, happy life, and you’re going to be incredibly successful.”

“What are you…why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Kris looks away, shrugging his shoulders and smiling sadly.

“Kris?” Adam asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be gone by tomorrow,” Kris answers honestly.

“That’s…shit that’s crazy!” Adam exclaims. “You can’t leave. That’s…no, you can’t. Not because of this. Please just give me a chance to explain, just give me an hour, one hour! That’s all, please.”

“You’re going to be late for work if you don’t get going soon,” Kris says, keeping his voice light.

“Fuck,” Adam mutters. “He’ll kick my ass if I’m late again. Shit, shit. Please, just promise me you’ll give me a chance to convince you to stay. Tonight?”

“You’re serving again tonight, aren’t you? At the restaurant?”

“I’m on the early dinner shift, I’ll be home by 9.”

“And then you have your date,” Kris reminds him, his voice tight.

Adam swears under his breath, and runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Just…don’t leave tonight. Give me until tomorrow, so we can talk. Please? Promise?”

Kris makes his face blank, pushing down every thought, pushing down two centuries of longing.

“Sure,” he says, smiling that same stiff smile. _It won’t matter anyway,_ he thinks. _Tomorrow, you won’t even remember I existed._

“Thank you,” Adam sighs, relieved. He leans forward to kiss Kris gently on his forehead. “I’m sorry, I have to run, but I _will_ see you soon.”

Adam smiles at him, a genuine smile, and Kris just nods in return, not trusting his voice to speak.

And then he walks away.

****************************

Kris spends most of the day with Allison, who proves a fantastic distraction while she’s around. Her youth and exuberance help him forget his own troubles, if only for a while. She leaves before dinner, though, for a date with David. She’s so excited, that Kris can’t bring himself to say goodbye to her. Not that it matters. The goodbyes are for him alone.

With nothing left to do but count the hours and minutes until he has to leave, Kris soon grows groggy with fatigue and the concerted effort it takes to ward off thoughts of Adam and all he’ll be leaving behind.

He wakes to a slight tapping sound, opening his bleary eyes. He chances a glance at the clock on the wall. 11 o’clock. Almost time now.

He shakes himself awake, and sits numbly on the edge of his bed, feet just touching the ground. He’s confused by the knock on his door. Malcolm doesn’t knock, he just appears. It takes a second knock for Kris to finally get up and open the door.

When he sees Adam on the other side, he can’t help his sharp intake of breath.

“Oh,” Kris says, pressing his fingers to his lips. He wasn’t prepared to see Adam again.

“Hey,” Adam smiles, nervously. “I…I tried throwing rocks at your window, but it didn’t seem to work. So I figured, direct would be best, even if it’s less…romantic.”

“Romantic?” Kris repeats dumbly. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

“Do you remember when we went up to Mohonk,” Adam’s speaking quickly, like he’s afraid Kris will cut him off. “And the rinks were closed? You promised me a raincheck.”

Kris opens his mouth to speak, but finds no words. He shakes his head in confusion.

“I know it’s…crazy. And weird. And I totally understand if you say no but..”

“You want to go skating?” Kris asks, bewildered. “Now?”

Adam holds up his arms, lifting two pairs of skates he’d kept at his side. “Would you?”

He looks so scared, like Kris will say no, and everything comes rushing back to Kris all at once. All of the affection and the love and the memories.

“Let me just grab my coat,” he answers, breathless.

Adam laughs, happy and relieved.

Kris has no idea where they’re going, so he lets Adam lead the way. Less than an hour is left. Malcolm would say this is just torturing himself, that he’s a masochist. But Kris has never been able to say no to Adam. And maybe that’s answer enough.

“Did your date end early?” he asks finally, his body stiffening as if waiting for a blow.

Adam looks at him, confused. “I didn’t go on that stupid date. I...did something else for a little while, and then I spent an hour tracking Sal down so I could get him to open the store and let me borrow the skates.” He smiles brightly. “Took a lot of promises. I’m basically his indentured servant for life now.”

Kris laughs, feeling the weight lifted from his shoulders. He shivers a little in the cold night air.

“You don’t have gloves,” Adam says, concerned and looking down at Kris’s reddening hands.

“They’re in my other coat,” Kris says with a shrug. “I probably should have worn that one instead of this old thing. You were right, a pea coat isn’t enough for New York winters.”

“Here, take mine,” Adam says, starting to pull one off with his teeth.

“Don’t be crazy,” Kris says. “Besides they’re too big, they’ll just fall off me. And look,” he says, lifting the string tying the skates he’s holding together and looping it around his neck, so the skates fall like a necklace. He puts his hands in his coat pockets. “That’s what pockets are for.”

Adam looks him over critically, then reaches down and lifts the skates off Kris’s neck. He holds both pairs in one hand, and gently kneads Kris’s neck, rubbing at the angry red mark the string left behind.

Kris smiles up at him, as if he’s not quite sure Adam is real.

“Can I ask you something?” Adam’s voice is even, but he won’t look at Kris.

“Shoot,” Kris replies, his stomach suddenly tense.

“What did you mean, last night…when you said Tre was right?”

“Oh, that,” Kris says with relief. “He just said…he said that we wouldn’t work together. That it couldn’t work out.”

“What the hell?” Adam exclaims angrily. “He’s had like three conversations with me in all the time he’s lived here. How would he know whether or not…fucking know-it-all med students. Did he even tell you why?”

Kris shrugs. “He said that I wasn’t really your type, in any way but looks. That you didn’t go for guys like me.”

“And what are guys like you?”

“The marrying kind,” Kris admits. “He said I was the kind of guy you marry, not the kind of guy you sleep with. And that you…weren’t the marrying kind.”

“Wow,” Adam shakes his head. “What an asshole.”

“Agreed,” Kris nods.

“You know none of that is true right? And Tre doesn’t know me at all and--”

“I know, Adam,” Kris reassures him.

“And Kris,” Adam bites his lip in worry. “You know, nothing, _nothing_ happened with Drake. Not even…Nothing at all.”

Kris smiles at him, relieved, but doesn’t say anything in return.

They walk the rest of the way through the woods in an easy silence.

“This is it,” Adam says when they come to a small clearing. The scene unfolds exactly as Kris was expecting, from the moment Adam knocked on his door holding up skates.

It’s a little bigger than the pond in the globe, the pond where Kris and Adam skated on their last night together. The trees are perhaps a bit taller, wilder. But for the most part, it looks the same. Kris is beyond wondering what it means, or if it means anything at all. He’s here with Adam, and for however many minutes or seconds that lasts, he’ll treasure it.

Adam walks out onto the ice, and glances at a stick in the ground.

“It’s good!” he calls back to Kris. Kris just shakes his head, confused. “The ice is thick enough to skate on.”

“How do you know?”

“The town measures it daily. If it’s not thick enough, they usually rope it off, but I just wanted to make sure.”

“That’s so nice,” Kris says, all innocent amazement. “For them to do that, to make sure people don’t get hurt or…fall through.”

Adam laughs, looking at Kris affectionately. “I think they do it so they won’t get sued, but I like your take on it. Always so positive.”

Kris blushes, looking down. “This is what you meant then. When you said I was…different. Weird and old fashioned.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back in time?” Adam asks and Kris looks up, startled. “I’d really like to go back a couple of days and kick my own ass. Kris, I _love_ that you’re like this. I was just…maybe we should talk about this now--”

“Afterward,” Kris says, swallowing over a lump in his throat. There’s not enough time for long talks, he knows. He wants to be out on the ice, one more time with Adam, standing close to him, one last time.

They sit on the cold dirt, lacing up their skates.

“I took a guess on the size,” Adam bites his lip as Kris wiggles his foot inside. “Skates fit different from shoes.”

“Perfect,” Kris smiles, as Adam leans down a hand to pull him up.

“Are you any good?” Adam teases, pulling Kris onto the ice.

“Like I’ve been doing this my whole life,” Kris adds a little swagger to his glide for effect.

Adam takes both of Kris’s hands in his and pulls them round and round in a circle, until they’re dizzy and laughing, gasping for breath. He stops when Kris starts to slip a little, and pulls him closer, standing still.

“Your hands,” Adam says, pulling Kris’s hands inside his own, palm against palm, like they’re praying. “Let me warm them up.” He rubs a little, until Kris feels a slight tingling burn, then lifts Kris’s hands towards his face, blowing softly, his warm breath like a mist. “Better?”

Kris nods, staring up at Adam’s face, as if in a trance. He can’t look away.

Adam smiles softly, pulling Kris even closer, the beginning of a dance. He wraps one arm around Kris’s waist, placing Kris’s hand on his own waist. He lifts Kris’s other hand to his lips for a soft kiss on the palm, before placing it over his heart, his own hand on top, holding it there. He doesn’t take his eyes off Kris.

Everything feels so still. The moon is almost full, reflecting on the ice, like dancing light across the frozen water. They barely move, tiny imperceptible shifts across the ice. Kris feels weightless, as though Adam is gravity and if it wasn’t for his strong hands grounding him, Kris could just float away.

An owl hoots in the distance, and they’re startled, tumbling a bit until they fall to the ice, laughing, legs entangled. Adam still has his arms around Kris, and pulls him closer yet, so their legs are splayed on each side of the other. Their faces are so close.

Kris can feel his heart beating madly in his chest, like a countdown. How many minutes are left, or is it seconds now? How long until Kris disappears, and all that Adam remembers of him is a flicker of déjà vu, something he ponders for a moment before disregarding seconds later?

“There was so much I wanted to tell you, to show you, to convince you to stay,” Adam says, his voice a breathless whisper. “I don’t know why I thought this would be the best way.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to--” Kris starts.

“I want to,” Adam whispers, his voice hoarse. There are tears shining in his eyes, the brilliant blue transformed into a subdued gray by the light of the moon. He pulls Kris closer, until he is whispering in his ear, one hand wrapped around his neck, holding him close.

“I was so scared,” he begins. “Not just because I never felt this way, not ever, but…I didn’t understand it. It came on so quick, and I felt so out of control. I felt like…a different person. The other night, when we…I felt like I couldn’t leave your side, like it hurt to say goodnight. And it scared the shit out of me. I’m not used to needing someone like that, and I was just trying to prove to myself that I didn’t. Because it didn’t make sense to me, everything I was feeling. And the way you look at me…like I’m this, kind, amazing person. And I was scared, and angry because I don’t know if I can be that person. If I can be that good.”

“You are that good,” Kris says, his voice a choked cry. He feels Adam shake his head no, feels the soft brush of his hair against Kris’s temple.

“I’m not, but I can try. I want to try. I hate the things I said to you. I hate that I made your face look that way. You should never look sad, Kris. You have the most beautiful smile. You shouldn’t ever not be smiling. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about it, and all day today I kept wondering what I could say to you, to make you forgive me, to make you understand.”

Kris’s heart is beating out of control now, each beat like the ticking of a clock, counting down the minutes, the seconds until midnight. He can feel it, instinctively, like a bomb ticking away in his chest, about to explode any second now. It’s like a New Years countdown to the end of the world.

“But I don’t know that there is. All I can do is tell you the truth. And the truth is…as crazy as this sounds,” Adam laughs through his tears. “I think you’re perfect for me, in every way I didn’t know I could need or want.”

 _Ten, nine, eight, seven…_

“The truth is, even though we’ve only known each other such a short time, I can’t imagine you not being here, in my life, everyday. I don’t want to imagine it.”

 _Six, five, four, three…_

“The truth is, if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d do anything…”

 _Two, one._

Kris can see Malcolm’s reflection in the ice, can sense him surveying the scene. When he speaks, his voice is full of sorrow.

“Alright then, Kris,” Malcolm whispers, the same as he has half a dozen times before, always the same.

 _No,_ Kris’s mind screams. _Just a little more time. Please, not yet._

“And the truth is, as crazy as this is, I love you. And I’ve known it for a while now, I was just too scared and stupid to admit it. I love you, and I hope you’ll give me the chance to show you I deserve you.”

Kris pulls back, desperately, for one last look at Adam’s nervous face, before he pulls him into an urgent kiss, feeling Adam’s relief flood out of him. He gives himself up to the kiss, pouring himself into it, letting himself have one final moment of shared glory, a reminder of why he can never let go, before the world fades to black.

 

****************************

He is standing still on the ice, feeling the tug of invisible strings that pull him round and round like a marionette, a puppet for the cruel entertainment of fate.

Suddenly, Adam is next to him, being pulled alongside him. Kris waits for the moment when the ice cracks, pulling Adam down into the depths, out of Kris’s desperate reach. It happens, exactly as it always does, Adam reaching up towards him, his terrified eyes begging for help. Kris tries to reach down, struggles against the strings that bind him, but they are too tight. He fights, knowing it’s futile, knowing his strength will never be enough.

But this time, the strings break. His arm is free, free to reach down and grab Adam’s hand. The weight of the water too strong and forceful for him to tug Adam out, he is pulled down himself, down down down, his lungs straining for air, Adam holding tight to his hand through it all.

****************************

His eyes are open, scanning the room, before he wakes up. He glances around, looking for Malcolm, mind already wondering what year it is. It feels like no time at all has passed, but his head is foggy and dazed.

Instead of Malcolm, instead of the usual airport or train or bus station, he finds worried blue eyes looking down at him. He’s in a bed. Adam’s bed. In Adam’s bedroom.

He sits up with a start.

“Hey, hey, take it easy there,” Adam calms him, soothing hands pushing him gently back down.

“How is this possible?” Kris asks, frantically.

“Okay, I’m calling the doctor,” Adam says standing up, worry in his voice.

“No, no,” Kris shakes his head. He takes a few calming breaths then speaks again. “I’m sorry. I was just confused. What…what happened?”

“Well, um,” Adam sits back down on the edge of the bed, taking one of Kris’s hands in his, the other feeling his forehead for a fever. “You kind of fainted?”

“I…fainted?” Kris asks. He struggles to remember what happened last. They were on the ice, and time ran out…Malcolm was there, and then he was gone…

“You need to drink this before we continue this conversation,” Adam says authoritatively, helping Kris sit up just enough to drink some orange juice. “Kris, are you sure you don’t have some sort of…condition? This is the second time this has happened, and I’d just really like to know, for the future, you know. How to deal with it if it happens again.”

“No,” Kris smiles, bewildered. “I must have just been…overwhelmed. You have a tendency to do that to me.”

Adam smiles and looks down. “So you remember then? What I said?”

He looks nervous, Kris decides. It’s adorable.

“Yeah,” Kris pulls one of Adam’s hands into his own. “I remember. And, I do too. You know, in case that wasn’t completely obvious.”

They sit there for a few moments, grinning stupidly at each other.

“There’s something I want to show you,” Adam says after a while. His voice has turned serious. “You’re probably going to think I’m crazy--”

“I guarantee you, I will not think you’re crazy,” Kris says, letting Adam help him stand up, even though he feels perfectly fine. Adam seems intent on being cautious, and Kris doesn’t think fighting it will help.

“I don’t know how it changed,” Adam says, leading Kris to the shelf on his wall. “But see? It wasn’t like this last week. I swear, it’s the craziest thing.”

“Oh my,” Kris gingerly takes the snow globe off the shelf, holding it gently in his palm. Inside, where the small man stood lifelessly smiling, gliding alone on the ice, he’s now joined by a partner, a taller man with black hair, head thrown back in laughter. They’re holding hands, and dancing on the ice.

“I don’t understand it,” Adam laughs, embarrassed. “It’s like…”

“Magic,” Kris finishes in a whisper.

“Something like that,” Adam slips his arm around Kris’s waist, and puts the globe back on the shelf.

“I hope this means you’re staying,” Adam breaks the silence a few moments later.

Kris grins at him. “I’m thinking it over.”

“Do I still need to convince you?” Adam leads Kris back towards the bed and lays him down, gingerly.

 _Oh,_ Kris thinks. _Finally_.

“Yes,” Kris says firmly, pulling Adam down for a kiss. “You should definitely convince me.”

“Are you crazy?” Adam pulls back, eyes wide. “We aren’t doing anything like that until you’re checked out by Doctor Brown.”

Kris sighs, head flopping back on the pillow. “I’m completely fine!”

“You _passed out_ for an entire night!” Adam exclaims. “There’s no way you’re not going to see a doctor. Unless you prefer to go to the herbal specialist in Kingston.”

Kris bites his tongue, and agrees, defeated. But he secretly loves how protective Adam already is.

“There’s something else I wanted to show you,” Adam says, biting his lip.

“Okay,” Kris smiles, confused by Adam’s hesitation.

“It’s just, it’s downstairs.”

“Do you…want me to go to get it?”

Adam laughs. “No, of course not. I just…you’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

Kris nods, fighting back the rise of emotion in his chest. “Not going anywhere. Promise.”

He lies back on the bed, content and happier than he’s been in…forever seems like the appropriate word. A moment later he sits up, alarmed.

“Are you here to take me away?”

Malcolm chuckles. A rarity, Kris doesn’t think he’s actually ever seen it before. “Good to see you too, Kristopher.”

“I’m sorry, I just…don’t understand.”

“You won, Kris,” Malcolm says, a reverence in his voice Kris is _sure_ he’s never heard before. “You did it. He remembered. Enough to break the spell at least.”

“But…time had run out,” Kris says carefully. “Those are the rules.”

“Ah, well,” Malcolm sighs. “What’s a second or two in the stretch of millennia.”

It takes Kris a moment to understand. When he does, he looks up at Malcolm with grateful, shining eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“You’re my first,” Malcolm says proudly. Kris can’t tell if there are tears in his eyes or if it’s just a trick of the light. “The first one to beat him, to break a curse.”

“I think,” Kris says, smiling. “That we’re going to name our first child after you Malcolm.”

“Oh dear,” Malcolm says, face regaining its usual stoic composure. “Please don’t. It’s a dreadful name.”

Kris laughs.

“I hope…I hope it happens for you too, Malcolm. Soon.”

“Alright then, Kristopher,” Malcolm says with a nod, straightening the lapels on his suit. “All the best.”

“Goodbye,” Kris whispers to the now empty space where Malcolm stood.

He sits in the silent room, lost in thought, until Adam returns a few moments later. He’s clutching something large and pink and covered in glitter in his hands.

“This is probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever done,” he says, a little shy but proud too.

“Well I need to examine it then,” Kris laughs.

Adam sits next to him on the bed, their knees touching. Kris gets a little spark, just from that. So many years of dreaming of this, just sitting on a bed with Adam, being in the same room with him, hearing his voice. He never once wondered if the reality would hold up to the fantasy. There was no need to. The reality is infinitely more satisfying.

“I didn’t know what to do, last night, to make you stay. I was so scared I’d get back here and you’d be gone already. So I called in sick at the restaurant, and I…I made this. It’s stupid, but…”

Kris takes it gently from Adam’s offering hands. It’s a scrapbook of sorts. Each page contains something different, something special from their brief time together. The receipt from their Christmas Day shopping trip, with Peggy’s cranberry sauce recipe written on the back (Kris can’t believe Adam saved that), a postcard from the top of Mohonk Mountain, the sheet music from Braham’s Lullaby, the first song Kris taught Adam to play, with Kris’s small, neat handwriting marking up the margins. The page Kris lingers on the longest is a picture of them, from New Years Eve.

Someone must have taken it from the wings offstage, because it’s a straight on shot. Adam is sitting on the piano bench next to Kris, and they’re turned towards each other. The adoration is so clear on Kris’s face, so incredibly _obvious._ If that’s how he always looked at Adam, Kris thinks it’s a wonder Adam didn’t take off running from the start. Adam looks happy, beautiful, glowing and he’s smiling at Kris like he can’t take his eyes off of him.

It’s the only picture of them Kris has ever seen. There weren’t cameras in their own lifetime, and there was never a chance in any since. He stares at it, awed. So this is what they look like, together. He’s amazed.

“It’s a good picture of us,” Adam says softly. “I can’t believe I was trying to pretend…anyone who takes one look at it would know.”

Kris nods, and turns to look at him. “I love it. All of it. Thank you, so much.”

Adam beams proudly. “I’m glad. But, it’s definitely getting hidden away in a box somewhere. No one can know the corny lengths I was willing to go to for you, Kristopher Allen.”

Kris laughs, and smiles, looking down at the picture in his hands.

“You know, I think Tre was wrong,” he says a moment later.

“Tre is always wrong.” Adam rolls his eyes. “Nothing new there. But about what specifically?”

Kris grins, pulling Adam down on top of him. “I think you might just be the marrying kind.”

Adam’s eyes open wide. “If that’s a proposal--”

“That is not a proposal!” Kris interrupts.

“Then you should know I expect a three caret ring and you should really get down on one knee,” Adam continues with a pout.

“I guess it’ll have to wait till Doc Brown clears me then,” Kris reaches up for a quick kiss.

“Guess it’ll have to wait,” Adam whispers, shifting his weight off of Kris, leaning down for a deeper kiss.

There’s no rush. They have all the time in the world.

***The End***


End file.
